


so speak, soul of mine

by sarahshelena



Series: orphan black with dæmons [8]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Aromantic, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Daemons, Disturbing Themes, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Gift Fic, Gun Violence, In Character, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Missing Scenes, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Rape Fantasy, Same-Sex Daemons, Self Prompt, Series, Suicide, Time Skips, To Be Edited, Violent Sex, Violent Thoughts, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5865919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahshelena/pseuds/sarahshelena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dæmon au ~ an insight into rachel's character progression and "heavy-handed tactics" from before her first appearance in series one and throughout series two</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. silent voice of reason

**Author's Note:**

  * For [villettes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/villettes/gifts).



> this is for a very good friend of mine who politely stands my gift fics
> 
> this one she actually **wanted.**
> 
> dæmon AU (based on the 'his dark materials' book universe in which people's souls live outside their bodies in the form of an animal that reflects their human's personality.)
> 
> same-sex dæmons are rare, but just to make this AU a little different, and to signify the rarity of clones, all genetic identicals have a dæmon the same gender as the one they themselves were assigned at birth. To simplify: the leda clones have female dæmons and the castor clones have male dæmons. 
> 
> **STORYLINE INFO:**
> 
> I had no idea where I was going with this when I first started it (which remains true of absolutely everything I post) but it now clearly is a multichapter, with a slight divergence from canon, this fic showing the progression of both rachel's and her dæmon's characters in the second season of the show. 
> 
> I am hoping to extend it to include season four, and, who knows, perhaps even further.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **DÆMON FORMS**
> 
> [rachel's dæmon](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com/post/159039974698/2-of-o-b-w-i-t-h-d-%C3%A6-m-o-n-s-by-sarahshelena) is a mountain lion, and her name means "most beautiful" in greek, she is shown [here](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com/tagged/mountain-lion)
> 
> (all photos each belong to their respective owners)
> 
> _whenever a character appears and their dæmon is mentioned, I will tell you what exact form it takes, its name, if relevant, and include links to hd images for reference if possible._   
> 

The cat would always sit demurely beside her, claws sheathed, tail curled closely around neatly groomed paws.

Rachel's hand would rest on the short fur of the cat's brow, pearly silver nails smoothing the silky ears, over and over.

Every now and then the large head would shake irritably from under her palm and the tail would flick, heavy paws padding away; she would lightly spring onto a nearby chair or couch, the leather would creak under the dæmon's weight; ears forward and paws set out in front, eyes half closed but still alert.

It wasn't uncommon for the cougar dæmon to be sprawled out on the floor and under Rachel's desk, sometimes laying a heavy paw on her woman's foot. 

* * *

Rachel now felt the weight of the massive paw warming her flesh — needle sharp claws slid out of soft sheaths of fur and pinched the skin stretched over the arch of her foot and Rachel heard her dæmon's deep, rich voice in an stern undertone:

_"You know you can stop now. You could always stop at any time."_

Rachel looked down at her dæmon; said, "No," her voice pitched warningly low.

Huge sandy eyes fixed her in a level gaze, flashing flecks of green.

Rachel bared her white teeth at the cat, _"No!"_ she spat.

The mountain lion rose from her place under the desk and came around to Rachel's side, took a slim-fingered hand into her mouth, biting down gently, then released the hand at once.

Rachel's mask slipped _(faltered, cracked)_ – as she sat forward and held the head of her dæmon gently between her palms, thumbs smoothing the rich sandy-golden fur of the cat's cheeks; red lips pressing softly upon her dæmon's brow, "You know I have to finish this. Don't make it any harder, Kallista."

The pink nose kissed her cheek in understanding.

* * *

_“Lambhood and tigerishness may be found in either gender, and in the same individual at different times.”_

― Margaret Atwood


	2. scenting her quarry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set in s1ep10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DÆMON FORMS**
> 
> daniel's dæmon is a female [doberman](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com/tagged/doberman)
> 
> * * *
> 
> paul's dæmon is a female white-bellied sea eagle shown in the links listed below:
> 
> http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/64/White-bellied_Sea_Eagle_on_the_Wing.jpg
> 
> http://amatteroflight.com/gallery2/d/9515-1/White-bellied-Sea-Eagle-8X7P0018.jpg
> 
> * * *
> 
> [sarah's dæmon](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com/post/159042866283/3-of-o-b-w-i-t-h-d-%C3%A6-m-o-n-s-by) is a canadian timber wolf shown [here](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com/tagged/wolf), and her name is atë, though she is not referred to by her name in this fic. 
> 
> (if you're as devoted to these AUs as I am you'd know that practically everyone assigns a wolf to a main character, and it never fits. I like to think that this does.)  
> 

Rachel spoke to Daniel without looking up from her laptop, “It seems Sarah Manning was arrested late last night for impersonating a police officer and was brought up on possible murder charges,” she would have laughed if it weren't such a threat to their security.

When she glanced up to gauge his reaction, Daniel’s expression remained unchanged, “Would you like me to retrieve her?” he asked.

“Yes…” Rachel said, considering, “Do make sure to get there before she says something incriminating. I have enough to deal with without her being charged for the murder of a police officer.”

“Of course. I'll be back in a few hours, and Paul will be here,” Daniel’s disparaging tone made it clear that he didn't trust the former soldier with Rachel's safety.

“If I trusted Paul to do anything with Sarah other than fuck her, I would send him,” Rachel replied, “Just do as I tell you.”

She waved him away.

Daniel nodded silently, his tall, slender Doberman dæmon staying by his side as he left.

Paul entered the near-empty floor only a few minutes after, his white-and-grey eagle-dæmon perched on his shoulder as he stood a few feet away from the door, attempting to hide his unsure attitude about the whole situation.

Rachel didn't need Kallista’s help to sense the uneasiness he felt around her. And she knew it wasn't just her face that unsettled him.

“Come closer,” she told him.

He approached slowly, calmly, his dæmon briefly spreading her wings before shifting on his shoulder, visibly uncomfortable.

“How long were you Beth Childs’ monitor?”

His reply was immediate, robotic, “Almost two years.”

Rachel tilted her head mockingly, recalling to memory the CCTV footage of the cop walking in front of a speeding train, “Weren't very good at it, were you?”

Paul said nothing.

“And what do you think?” she pressed.

“About what, Miss Duncan?” he responded automatically.

Rachel lifted her chin, smiling triumphantly, “How each of the clones you've become entangled with have, in their own unique way, self-destructed.”

* * *

Rachel's phone vibrated in her hand.

**Have Sarah. Will be there in 1 hr.**

* * *

There was a soft chime as the elevator doors opened. Standing at the window, her reflection looming over the view of the city, Rachel heard the clone scoff as she caught sight of Paul standing there.

“Great, I shoulda known.”

It was hard not to flinch at the assaulting voice that reached her ears. Kallista shook her head in distaste. This clone had the most _hideous_ accent.

Rachel looked up from her phone and turned.

A woman with her face stood there dressed entirely in black and leather. Her eyes widened in recognition and shock as Rachel approached, heels clicking on the exposed concrete floor. A dark wolf-dæmon, her hackles raised, black-brown fur bristling, briefly bared her teeth and took a step back as Kallista, choosing not to react at the blatant insult, padded silently alongside Rachel.

“Right,” Rachel locked her phone in her hand, “So, my name is Rachel Duncan, and we are going to come to terms.”

Sarah only stood there mutely, still staring at her. Rachel resisted the urge to roll her eyes and gestured to one of the chairs, “Sit.”

Sarah Manning’s eyes narrowed but she pulled up a chair, the wheels scraping against the floor – making Rachel briefly close her eyes in an effort not to wince – and slumped into the seat, forcing it back a few inches.

“I'd like to have you sign something before we go any further,” Rachel sat and slid the contract designated for Sarah Manning in front of her; the paper glided smoothly over the glass surface, “The agreement defines mutual disclosure, and formalises contact with what I call Topside.”

She looked up to see Sarah Manning straighten up and cross her arms childishly, “Top side?” she repeated snidely, “So is this the part where twenty more of you robot bitches walk in for effect?”

The wolf beside her snickered.

Kallista’s lip curled up over her teeth at the vulgarity of it all. This was a legitimate offer and they were behaving like an adolescent.

“You're not an orphan any more, Sarah,” Rachel reminded her, trying to ignore the woman's fidgeting, “We found you. And my role is to transition you into self-awareness.”

Sarah leant forward, her arms still tightly crossed, “Clone fixer. Brilliant,” she said sarcastically, nodding, “You know, maybe it's time I just embraced my cloneage. Went on Oprah.”

Resisting the impulse to tell her Oprah was no longer on the air, Rachel chose to ignore that possible threat to their security.

“We could be _famous_ , you and me.”

Rachel stirred at this, leaning forward, speaking softly, intimately, “We’re not the enemy... _Helena…”_ she spat the name out as if it tasted bad, “...and her ilk _are,_ and we’re going to help with that.”

“You wanna help? Why don't you tell me _why?”_ Sarah threw across the table, “Wh- what am I doing, sat here looking at you, what are we _for?”_

She would have hung on Rachel’s every word… if Rachel had chosen to answer her.

“Disclosure…” Rachel slid the contract across the desk, “...is defined herein.”

She rose from her chair and strode over to the window, “We want your trust, you want precious answers that cut to the core of who you are,” Rachel turned, clasped her hands in front of her and delivered her trump card, “But above all, I know you want to make the right choice for Kira.”

Sarah’s expression froze in disbelief while turning a page of the contract. The wolf-dæmon beside her rose, a deep, menacing growl issuing from her tightly closed muzzle.

“You're very lucky…” Rachel murmured — glanced over to the mountain lion as she answered the wolf with a snarl of her own — and smiled thinly, “Motherhood is wonderful.”

The fearful expression on Sarah's face was one she would remember for a long time afterward.

“Forces behind Helena will never stop, Sarah,” Rachel stepped towards Sarah, her proximity forcing the wolf-dæmon back as she approached with Kallista, “The most important thing in this is protection…” she learn against the edge of the desk, the hard edge pressing into the flesh of her thighs just under her buttocks, “...for you and your daughter.”

Sarah seemed to consider it, then her resolve morphed back into what it had been before, “Yeah, no thanks,” she spat, tossing the contract back onto the desk, “I'll get by on my own.”

“Scrambling to stay alive?” Rachel raised her eyebrows, “You'll remain free to live as you wish with Kira,” she bent her head to address Sarah equally, her hair tickling her cheek, “Provided for. Unmonitored but available. Call it sovereignty association.”

Sarah had her arms crossed again, “Like I said,” she stood, reaching three inches lower than Rachel, but still looked her straight in the eye, “I'm not interested.”

“Take twenty four hours to think about it,” Rachel called after her as she turned to leave.

Sarah threw back a wary glance as she half-ran from the room, her dæmon following her, silent as a shadow.

“Midnight tomorrow.” Rachel strode back behind the desk and ran her fingers over Kallista’s brow; her dæmon’s head butted against her fingers.

“Now we wait,” came the deep feminine voice from the mountain lion’s mouth, “Do you think she’ll accept?”

“It's hard to know what a feral animal will do when it's cornered.”

* * *

Almost a full day had passed since Sarah had walked out the door – the trill of Rachel's phone marked the white flag; she pressed the ‘Accept’ option on the screen.

“Rachel Duncan.”

 _“It's Sarah,”_ came the quiet reply.

Rachel’s eyes met those of her dæmon sitting across the room, at the very edge of their distance limit from each other.

“Yes, Sarah?” she answered tiredly.

 _“I wanna know my daughter won't have to live like this,”_ she breathed heavily.

Rachel cast a glance up at Daniel who stood beside her as she read and signed the documents he placed in front of her. His expression was unreadable, as was the face of the Doberman that sat rigidly at his feet.

“We can do that.”

_“I'm comin’ in.”_

The call ended just as her laptop chimed – an email had been received, which Rachel opened.

Alison Hendrix was the first to fall for the red herring.

“One down, two to go,” Rachel turned to Daniel with a rare smile, adding, “Wait by the elevators for Sarah.”

He nodded and the Doberman rose to follow him to the doors.

Kallista stirred and padded across the concrete floor past Daniel and his dæmon as they left, opening her mouth to speak, “I don't want to tempt fate, but-”

“Then don't.” Rachel snapped, turning to her phone.

Minutes passed with nothing from Daniel or Paul. Then an email was sent to her inbox.

**UP YOURS, PROCLONE.**

Rachel stared at it for a single, impassive moment then picked up her phone from the desk, dialled a number and held the phone to her ear. She had people stationed right outside Sarah’s foster mother’s house. They'd been there for a half hour already waiting for her call.

_“Yes, Miss Duncan?”_

“You know what to do.”

* * *

_“Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies.”_

_—_ __Great Expectations by Charles Dickens


	3. violent & vindictive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set in s2ep1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an excessively big thank you to [rachelsmonitor](http://rachelsmonitor.tumblr.com) on tumblr for her help with rachel's phone call in German :3
> 
> **DÆMON FORMS**
> 
> leekie's dæmon is a black-billed magpie shown [here](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com/tagged/magpie)

Rachel’s phone vibrated; she glanced at the message and felt as if her teeth would splinter from how hard her jaw clenched upon reading the content.

 **Sadler house tossed, occupants gone. No movement shown in minutes before entry. Apologies.**

Kallista butted her head against Rachel’s arm and looked up at her woman; green-and-gold eyes piercing. 

“Don't worry,” her voice was infinitely soft, but her eyes were set and focused, “We can lie, and Sarah will automatically suspect us. She'll come.” 

Not ten minutes had passed before Rachel saw Kallista's ears flick and looked over to Paul. He'd put his phone up to his ear and was listening intently. 

Through Kallista’s superb hearing and the unbreakable link between them, Rachel heard Sarah’s voice; the grifter’s offensive accent assailed her ears through the clear, crisp senses of her dæmon. 

_“Paul! What the hell is going on?”_ Sarah's voice lowered into a fearful whisper, _“Did Rachel just take my family?”_ not a beat later, her tone darkened into a husky growl, _“I need you to call me now.”_

Rachel glanced up at Daniel and nodded silently, knowing his dæmon had picked up on it too. He strode over to Paul and held out his hand, “I'll take that, thank you.” 

His jaw set, Paul surrendered the mobile and Daniel passed it to Rachel, who stood from the desk and turned to the window behind her, noting Kallista coming to stand beside her. 

She selected ‘Call Back’, smiling in amusement upon noticing that the name 'Beth' was still in his contacts. 

_“Paul?”_ Sarah sounded frantic, desperate. 

Rachel couldn't keep the smile out of her voice. 

“Hello, Sarah. There is a painless way to reunite with Siobhan and Kira,” she tilted her head, admiring Paul’s stolid reflection in the window, “Simply surrender yourself.” 

There was a slamming sound followed by a hideous growl; Sarah had hit something. 

_“Rachel, you bitch,”_ she spat, _“Me and Kira are not your bloody subjects. Neither is Siobhan.”_

“The terms of my offer still stand,” Rachel bared her teeth as she spoke, “We’ll pretend you didn't run.” 

_“Rachel, if you touch one hair on my daughter’s head, I will-”_

Rachel ended the call, crossing from the window and through the door, passing Paul his phone back. His eagle dæmon turned away, settling backwards on his shoulder, glaring over her wing at Rachel, who addressed Daniel as she left. 

“Have him talk to her. He’ll have more luck reasoning with the tramp.” 

He better. 

She needed a drink after this abortion of an evening. 

* * *

Rachel placed the teaspoon beside the tray to crack her boiled egg for breakfast just as her phone rang beside her; she accepted the call she'd been expecting. 

Mr Schlessinger was a dedicated investor, but persistently hesitant wherever legality and ethics were concerned. Rachel was always the one to assure him his money was well invested and many of her conversations with him resulted in a satisfying increase in the ‘donations’ they received towards scientific research.

“Ja, die meisten der Patente wurden direkt nach der Entscheidung des Supreme Court eingereicht werden,” she smiled at the man’s intrigued tone, “Ja, sicher. Vielen Dank Herr Schlessinger.” 

A ringing had interrupted her just before she hung up; Paul answered his phone and Rachel felt Kallista listening, both of them straining to hear. 

_“Here’s how this is gonna work.”_ Sarah began. 

Rachel looked over to Daniel and quirked an eyebrow. Paul would be in contact with Sarah again before noon; she’d have Daniel pick her up without this ridiculous game of cat and mouse complicating things. 

Paul excused himself and left with no explanation, his dæmon shifting uneasily on his shoulder. Rachel rolled her eyes. He couldn't possibly be any more transparent. Daniel gave it a minute then followed, his Doberman-dæmon stalking behind him. 

* * *

Paul arrived back before Daniel did, as straight-faced as if he'd just gone to the bathroom. Rachel stood up from her desk.

“Ah, good. Paul, could you escort me to Aldous' office please? Only Daniel hasn't returned.” 

“Of course,” he answered steadily, following her through the brightly lit corridors and through Aldous' reception foyer, passing closely by a young woman and her lynx dæmon, Kallista's long, thickly furred tail slicing through the air, commanding respect as they crossed in front of Aldous' reception desk. 

“It's a fortunate position you find yourself in, Paul.” 

It was a moment before he replied, “How's that, Miss Duncan?” 

She slowed and stopped right outside the door to Aldous’ office, turning to look at him; calculating but casual – she still needed him, especially for tonight. 

“You're the only one who seems to know what makes Sarah tick.” 

A lie – he, in fact only seemed to be one of the few who know how to draw her in, and the only one of those few that Rachel had in her power. 

He only smiled – his dæmon's eyes dark and unreadable – and opened the door for her. 

Aldous paced behind his desk, reciting whatever pitifully ‘clever’ speech he'd written for the function later. His dæmon, a magpie, was perched on the leather desk chair before him, preening herself; the green-purple-blue iridescent sheen on her black feathers flashed in the brightly lit room. 

“I need your office this evening,” she told him, “It's the Koreas, both of them.” 

“Ah,” he grinned toothily, inclining his head to her, “Well, good. Congratulations.” 

She only stared at him levelly. She didn't want his validation nor asked for it. She'd never needed his approval, and so it was always amusing whenever he proclaimed himself disappointed in her. 

She turned away as Aldous began fussing over his suit, facing Paul as he stood behind her. 

“Paul,” she addressed him, “Have you ever been to Taiwan?” 

“Taiwan, no.” 

She stepped up to him, standing uncomfortably close, “I don't suppose you speak Mandarin?” 

He met her gaze, admitted, “No.” 

“Hmm. Pity,” she smiled, “Pack a bag, we leave Tuesday.” 

He turned to leave immediately, glancing back at Leekie’s foully suggestive, “Good luck, Paul.” 

Rachel walked over to Aldous to help him with his bow tie. 

If she wanted to fuck Paul, that was her business. God knows Aldous had had his fair share of conquests, none of them over twenty five. His current favourite was named Denise, as he persistently reminded her, despite her constantly reminding _him_ that she didn't care. 

She loosened the tie and began again. 

“Keeping him up close and personal?” Aldous murmured, making Kallista turn away, her teeth bared in disgust. 

Rachel sighed. It would be so satisfying to throttle the cretinous excuse for a man. But she raised her eyes to his and softened her steely gaze, “Of course.” 

He dropped the perverted manner he considered ‘charming’, “Rachel, did you _seriously_ kidnap Sarah's people?” he hissed. 

Rachel forced herself to exhale, “The less you know about it, the better.” 

“The child may be a biological goldmine, but so’s her mother,” he berated her. 

Her voice was strained when she informed him, “Daniel will recover Sarah.” 

Aldous scoffed, “Is that really necessary?” 

“Yes,” she said firmly, “And not your concern.” 

He'd asked her to deal with Sarah Manning. She was dealing with it. He’d met with Sarah once already, only to be stood up the second time. Whereas she’d only seen Sarah once in the flesh and already had her on the run. 

Like the animal she was. 

Rachel finished fiddling with his tie, “We have a big evening, you need to be on point.” 

Aldous turned and walked to the window, “To combine is to create…” his dæmon flapped her wings and swooped upward from the chair to his shoulder, “... to engineer, divine.” 

Rachel now stood between the two seats in front of his desk, grudgingly telling him, “You'll do wonderfully, Aldous.” 

She had to encourage him as if he were a grade-schooler in a play. It was tiresome. 

It was infuriating. 

* * *

The ringing phone distracted Rachel momentarily and she faltered, holding up a hand as Kallista’s focus trained on the vibrating mobile. Rachel waved away the men standing by her desk and they filed out of the office.

“Paul Dierden.” 

_“Paul, it's Sarah. Let me speak to her.”_

Daniel approached, holding out his hand. 

“She wants Rachel.” Paul told him. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Daniel took the phone, “Hi, Sarah, this is Daniel. I speak for Rachel.” 

_“I'm ready to make a deal, face to face.”_

Not noticing his subject’s attention was fixed upon him, Daniel went on, “Well, Rachel's a very busy woman, but if you tell me where you are…” he glanced back at Rachel, “...I'll bring you to her.” 

_“Right, I'll meet you at 9pm. I'll be driving the red minivan.”_

“Address?” 

_“39 Hilldale Crescent.”_

“I'll see you soon, Sarah.” 

* * *

Rachel's phone vibrated at 9:03 with a message from Daniel.

 **Subject apprehended turned out to be Alison Hendrix. Will return ASAP keep Paul nearby.**

Rachel ground her teeth until they felt like they would shatter. At least one thing had gone right: the Korean investors seemed quite impressed by her pitch and had left with very promising smiles, both of them. Paul had given her a look she didn't bother to decipher before escorting them from the office. 

Rachel turned back to Aldous’ desk and stacked a pile of papers; at the soft hiss of the door opening and the footfalls that she felt through the balls of her feet, Rachel knew it was Sarah before Kallista scented her, before the vile growling even began. 

“Good,” she smiled, “You made it.” 

“I want my daughter,” Sarah spat. The wolf beside her snapped threateningly, eyes set and tongue flickering out to lick pointed teeth. Kallista remained sitting calmly beside Rachel, paying the dæmon no mind. 

“Of course, and we want you to be together,” Rachel turned, “But my people found your foster mother’s house overturned,” she walked along the desk, approaching Sarah slowly, tracing the cool edge with her fingertips, “They were gone when we got there.” 

Sarah shifted from foot to foot, winged eyeliner crinkling as her eyes narrowed, “You're lying.” 

“I lied to _get_ you here,” Rachel purred, her voice silken, “But we don't have them.” 

Her eyes flicked to the gun that Sarah lifted, an empty threat. 

“Kira’s here,” she said precisely, dangerously, “And I wanna see her now.” 

Rachel smiled patronisingly, “You're not going to shoot me, Sarah.” 

The gun firing next to her ear made her head ring and sent her crashing into the desk, briefly disoriented, throwing up a hand to protect herself, shaking from the shock of the attack. Kallista hissed and spat, incensed, as the wolf-dæmon darted at her, snarling and lunging, attempting to bite. 

“If you don't have her, you're dead!” Sarah growled. 

“There are other forces vying for our fate, Sarah,” Rachel panted — perhaps in an attempt to combine the runaway clone's fierce determination with her own calculating ruthlessness, perhaps it was just to get her to back away — but Rachel made Sarah another offer, “We’ll get Kira back, _together.”_

Sarah's face twisted in anger as she drew her arm back, brutally striking Rachel across the face and sending her spinning to the floor; dropping onto her prone form before she could even draw breath. 

“How _dare_ you…” Rachel began. 

“You don't own us.” Sarah hissed, pressing the gun deep into the flesh of her cheek. 

But she'd forgotten about Rachel's mountain lion dæmon. 

In normal conflict between humans, they dispute and their dæmons do as well between themselves, whether violently or otherwise – complying with an age-old taboo that went deeper than anything else, which was no person should ever touch another's dæmon, and vice versa. Rachel had known this her whole life, and by extension, Kallista had too. 

But when the back of Sarah's hand caught Rachel's cheek, laying such a blow it sent her flying, Rachel heard for the first time, her dæmon's _scream_ of rage. Even Sarah's dæmon, foul-mouthed, unwashed tramp Sarah Manning's dæmon skittered in fear, barking out a yelp at the sound of Kallista's fury.

With Sarah bent over _her Rachel_ , the cougar crouched low with her ears flat against her head, eyes bulging, lips pulled back over her gleaming teeth, her tongue curled under as she spat furiously. Kallista stared Sarah down as thunderous growls ripped through her chest and tore out of her throat with a harsh shriek.

And she spoke.

 _"No one_ lays hands on her!"

Kallista lunged for the dæmon's throat — teeth and claws ready to tear into flesh and fur and rip it into atoms, unheeding of the connection between wolf and woman and the womb that worked inside her — she was intending to kill.

But sharp talons caught at the wolf's pelt and dragged her whimpering away. Kallista spun, baring her teeth to Paul, damned useless waste of muscle he was, a growl rumbling in her throat, spitting, "Stay out of this, Dierden, if you know what's good for you." 

Her gaze fell on the grey eagle sitting on his shoulder that had plucked the wolf dæmon out of her path, and her eyes narrowed in hatred. She should never touch Paul, nor Sarah, not ever, but right now, all she wanted was for her teeth to meet in their throats.

"Sarah, put the gun down," Paul ordered, knowing that Sarah would do what he said, not for him holding her at gunpoint, but that her dæmon was in his power.

Kallista's tail lashed rapidly as she felt Rachel's smug, vindictive smirk, knowing Rachel felt her anger but kept herself separate from it, instead choosing to show the mask of triumph.

Kallista rounded on them just as Sarah's fist connected with Rachel's cheekbone, sending her head snapping to the side and Kallista flinched, veered away from Paul's legs and fell.

* * *

When they woke, Paul was laying a cold cloth over Rachel's eye. Kallista gave him no warning, raking her claws down his arm and preparing for the vengeful onslaught from the bird of prey.

But Paul clenched his jaw and stood, turning away from the bed with its silver sheets and dangers, the malevolent brown gaze of his dæmon was answered with sandy eyes glaring murderously after them as they left.

Kallista nosed the cold cloth away and licked Rachel's cheek once, her rasping tongue brushing over bruising flesh and blackened eye, then picked the cloth up in her teeth and laid it back over Rachel's swelling face. She lay down next to her, resting her head beside Rachel's chest, feeling her heart beat. 

* * *

Smoothing concealer over her bruised cheek the next morning, Rachel bit out through gritted teeth, "That was the last chance I'll ever give her. I offered her my help, twice over and she-"

Her pale lips trembled as she shook with anger.

Kallista didn't finish the sentence for her. In fact, she had an idea.

"Kira is still the prize..."

"Obviously." Rachel snapped, patting powder over the shiny concealer.

"But just as a precaution, an insurance policy if you will..."

"What?" Rachel asked irritably, clicking the compact shut.

"What would you say if I suggested surgery?"

"Surgery?" Rachel's gaze connected with the gold and green eyes of her other half in the mirror, "You know that no amount of surgery can-"

"Not _you._ What I'm proposing is an oopherectomy." Kallista grinned nastily, her lips drawing back over her teeth, "For Sarah."

"Surely n-"

"Not everything. Let her keep her womb. But one of her ovaries..."

Rachel considered it; expressions she locked away in public were roving over her face, making her wince as the muscle movements pulled at the sensitive bruising.

"Rachel."

Her voice was seductive.

She felt Rachel's longing for a child, knew it in her own flesh; every atom in her sang out for an infant of her own one's body.

"I'm not a doctor," Rachel said indecisively.

"Call Nealon," the dæmon instructed, "He'll be only too happy to help."

Rachel brushed shimmering powder over her eyelids.

Kallista began washing her paws, knowing that although they both thought the same way, she had to let Rachel come to her own decision.

She'd agree.

She always did.

Mascara was carefully coiffed onto the lashes.

Kallista waited, bathing herself with her tongue.

Rachel applied her lipstick, red as the viscera would be as it followed her baby out of the womb. Not her womb, Sarah's, she'd hate that her child would be carried and nourished by a body not her own.

Rachel pressed her lips together; pushed them out crimson, plump and full.

"Daniel," she called softly, knowing he'd be lingering in the apartment, keeping an eye on her after last night.

She heard his footsteps and reached for perfume, dabbing Armani up high on her neck behind her ears.

"Reschedule my morning appointments."

* * *

_“I am not violent._  
_I am not malicious._  
_I am a result.”_

― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief


	4. demands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set in s2ep2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've taken an insanely long time updating this, but I cannot apologise, only explain. I was very very ill for quite a while, both physically and mentally. due to this, comments will from now on be moderated, but sent through as long as they are not harmful. service can be resumed as before. 
> 
> **DÆMON FORMS**
> 
> [cosima’s dæmon](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com/post/159078817568/6-of-o-b-w-i-t-h-d-%C3%A6-m-o-n-s-by) eulalia is a south american marine otter. this sea mammal is rare, not at all well-known, and half the size of its european cousin:
> 
> https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a1/Lfelina.jpg
> 
> https://picasaweb.google.com/m/viewer#photo/bernardo.roca.rey/5297546327046277409/5994134138963547330
> 
> https://picasaweb.google.com/m/viewer#photo/bernardo.roca.rey/5297546327046277409/5994134582197599266
> 
> * * *
> 
> [delphine's dæmon](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com/post/159049907743/5-of-o-b-w-i-t-h-d-%C3%A6-m-o-n-s-by) is a pale cascade fox named cheiron (pronounced KY-ron) shown [here](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com/tagged/cheiron)
> 
> **WARNINGS**
> 
> be careful looking up pictures of animals, mostly those that have been bred for fur and killed as 'game animals', the majority of results you may get are taxidermied animals and those killed for sport and "fashion". this may upset some people (I know it upsets me.)
> 
> so, anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Rachel stormed through Leekie’s reception and pushed open his office door, unheeding of the receptionist’s protests.

“Miss Duncan, he's in the middle of a very important-!”

Rachel closed the door on her, “Aldous, we need to talk,” she told him, half through her teeth. Her dæmon’s tail slashed agitatedly through the air and batted against her legs.

He took one look at the woman before him and the furious cougar beside her and nodded, murmuring an apology into the receiver before ending the call.

“How are you feeling, Rachel?” he asked as he turned and stroked the breast feathers of his dæmon with the back of his hand, crooning at her, and only half paying attention to Rachel while Kallista paced the floor restlessly, her mouth open, an ominous growl issuing from behind her bared teeth.

“Perfectly well, apart from the attack I suffered last night,” Rachel snarled, “What in God’s name made you think that was Cosima?”

Aldous turned his head to look at her, beginning in a defensive tone, “She was very convincing-”

“Her hair wasn't even in _braids_ , let alone those matted ones,” Rachel spat, “Of course you'll believe anything in a skirt, won't you?”

Aldous stood, “Now, that's hardly fair-”

“What was it you hoped she was grasping at when her hand slipped into your pocket? Or were you too distracted by coming into contact with her breasts?” she snorted derisively.

 _“Rachel,”_ Aldous’ tone darkened, “That is enough.”

Kallista snarled in retaliation, making the magpie-dæmon jump on Leekie’s shoulder, flapping her wings in alarm.

“I was _assaulted_ , Aldous,” Rachel raised her voice, putting all her power behind it, and he winced, his dæmon quailing in fright, “And if you think I'm going to allow this kind of insult, you're more of a fool than I thought you were. I want Sarah Manning. I want her cut open on the mortuary slab and harvested for every scrap of flesh until there's nothing left.”

He looked disturbed, but attempted to soothe her, “She is fertile, Rachel, we cannot risk the-”

“I'm turning over those processes to Doctor Nealon,” Rachel interrupted, “He understands what is needed and doesn't have the attachments you do. You will no longer be included in this. Is that understood?”

Aldous was silent for a while, finally sighing, “Yes.”

“Good.” Even when telling him what to do, she still had to praise him for conceding defeat.

‘Sarah has sealed her fate.” Rachel stated, allowing an edge to creep back into her tone. She didn't need him ruining her hunt for Sarah as well as spoiling what she was about to take off his hands.

“Now, Rachel, I understand how you feel about her. But isn't there another way to-”

“I want to meet Cosima,” she told him, disregarding his attempt to sway her, fingers combing through the short fur of Kallista’s brow.

“I...don't think that's such a good idea, Rachel,” Aldous looked as if he were trying to keep himself from cringing, “You both have very different viewpoints, and after last night,” he glanced pointedly at her slightly swollen cheek, “I don't think another confrontation will be beneficial to what we’re trying to accomplish.”

“Well, I don't care what you think,” Rachel lifted her chin and set her jaw, “Just tell me where Cosima will be.”

Aldous looked away from her steady gaze, “I'll be taking her to her new lab today. She should be there later on as well, with Delphine.”

“Who?” Rachel asked tiredly. 

_How_ he expected her to keep the names of all these floozies straight was simply ridiculous.

“Her monitor,” Aldous reminded her, stony-faced.

“Oh,” Rachel suddenly smiled, “Has she, as you would put it, gone to bat for the other team?”

Leekie’s face turned thunderous, “That is of little importance, Rachel.”

So that was a touchy subject for him. She’d’ve expected him to normally salivate over the idea of two women he had limited power over copulating together, but then again, not when it didn't include him. He was actually petulant about it, which was rather amusing.

“Yes, well, I have a few calls to make. Thank you for the talk, Aldous,” Rachel turned to leave, “Very illuminating.”

* * *

Rachel waved her passcard over the electromagnetic sensor plate in the wall, placed her hand on the cool chrome handle of the door and pushed it open, immediately catching a glimpse of a small otter and a golden-furred fox wrestling playfully on the floor, the otter-dæmon squirming and snuggling against the fox’s belly and side.

The clone and her monitor were engaged in a close embrace before the sound of the door made them break apart, the two dæmons jumping up from the floor and winding around the feet of their women protectively.

The door slammed as Rachel shut it and turned into the room, only to be met with identical expressions of shock: both women’s eyes registered trepidation and uncertainty as they recognised her face and realised who she was.

It was the same expression Rachel had seen when she met Paul and when she'd met Sarah Manning.

It was something she could get used to — the immediate fear response and the careful respect that followed.

_[she could still feel the swelling in her cheek from where sarah had struck her]_

The respect that _should_ follow.

“Hello,” she addressed them brusquely through unsmiling lips, directly approaching the clone scientist; her eyes lingering, Kallista’s nostrils flaring delicately as she approached, gauging her in an instant: reasonably intelligent, _not an immediate threat_. 

Rachel's eyes narrowed at the sight of the clone — Cosima — the petite otter-dæmon had leapt onto the table and sprang lightly onto the bespectacled woman's shoulder — before Rachel’s gaze slid over to Delphine, who was slowly backing away.

“Rachel Duncan,” she introduced _[announced]_ herself, secretly pleased at their reactions to her presence.

Cosima promptly took a slow step back, hovering between retreat and retaliation at this blatant invasion of privacy. But Ms. Niehaus wasn't one for direct confrontation or immediate defence, their file on her had said, and it was indeed correct. Cosima blinked intermittently, “You...sure _are_ ,” came the uncertain reply, the scientist dipping her head in an clear display of unconscious submission.

Rachel made her way over to the table, setting the briefcase she carried on the smooth surface and withdrawing a contract from inside it.

“Uh, I'm Cosima. The- the real Cosima, not the one that...kicked your ass or whatever,” Cosima’s hands gestured sweepingly, tangling her fingers together in her embarrassment as she glanced up at Rachel's unflinching, unforgiving expression, “Gotta love concealer,” she added awkwardly.

Rachel studied her intently.

She looked like a hippie. She had dark matted locks that were pulled into a thick ponytail, the ends trailing halfway down her back. The brightly patterned, multi-cultural style of her clothing made Rachel restrain a snort of distaste. _This_ was the cleverest of all the Leda children?

It was almost insulting to her own intelligence.

She took a calming breath, feeling Kallista’s paw press down on her foot. 

“I hear you're _very_ clever,” smiling thinly, Rachel almost hissed the words at the audacious clone.

“Yeah, I was clever when I was, like, six.” Cosima retorted, her previous uncertainty now gone — clearly, she'd struck a nerve.

Rachel hadn't forgotten the monitor; Delphine Cormier’s crystal clear avoidance of direct contact with her was obvious: she'd stepped away as far as she could without giving offense — her fox-dæmon shied away from Kallista’s calculating glances.

“Dr Cormier, now that we’ve met, you'll need to sign a new confidentiality agreement, would you leave us, please?”

As she dismissed her, Rachel spoke slowly, but all the same, the monitor was flustered and trembling.

“Uhm, yes, of course,” Delphine stammered, reaching for the contract on the table and leaving the room, her fox-dæmon slinking, his belly close to the floor, out after her.

Kallista didn't miss that, or the look the Delphine gave as she slipped out the door. Rachel watched her leave, her gaze lingering momentarily.

As the door hissed shut after her, Rachel turned to the clone beside her, lips quirking into a sardonic smile, “So,” she shook her head minutely, “You’re _gay.”_

As the otter-dæmon climbed down from Cosima’s shoulder to nestle in the crook of her arm, she sniffed audaciously; and a brief flash of annoyance crossed Cosima’s face before a forced smile took its place, “My sexuality is _not_ the most interesting thing about me,” she said.

Having seen the photos taken of them together (it was never necessary to monitor one of their own monitors, but in the rare case that the subject was self-aware, then Topside took extra measures to keep an eye on the both of them), Rachel was, in fact, curious, but hadn't wanted to appear so. She sniffed inaudibly and her tight-lipped smile remained, “Hmm,” she hummed in amusement, “How are you feeling?”

She ignored Cosima's inability to answer, taking out a folder from her bag, “These are the results of your last medical tests.”

“... _what_ tests?” Cosima echoed, surprised. Her dæmon chittered softly up at her.

Rachel glanced at Cosima scathingly before answering, “You visited your university GP two weeks ago. Blood tests,” she clarified, sliding over the papers, “You have a high lymphocyte count, along with high CRP and ESR. You were aware of Katja Obinger’s undiagnosed condition, yes?”

“...Yeah,” Cosima managed.

“Here's the data,” Rachel placed the portable hard drive on the tabletop, “Redacted to the pertinent.”

She'd sleep better at night if this woman didn't know any more than she needed to. Her girlfriend, as well.

“It's in our best interests to eliminate genetic predisposition.”

“Um,” Cosima interrupted, “Then you should let me examine the original genome.”

Rachel looked up, locked eyes with her and sighed, “Oh that's not possible.”

Cosima did a double take, as if she had been told something utterly ridiculous, “Why not?”

“I assure you, the original DNA was robust,” Rachel informed her, “We believe our issues stem from the cloning procedure. Doctor Cormier will schedule you an MRI.”

Cosima looked very put out by the lack of biological resources and all the elements that were out of her control. Cosima’s otter-dæmon squirmed irritably in her arms, whiskers twitching, but Rachel wasn't finished yet.

“And here's something else I'd like you to engage with,” she placed a thin folder on the desk, “Here's what little we know about Sarah Manning’s upbringing and environment. And here…” she placed another hard drive on the desk, “...is her sequenced genome.”

Rachel lifted her head, shaking her hair out of her face, addressing Cosima directly, “I want you to tell me why she's different than we are.”

Cosima raised her eyebrows, “You mean, why she, of all of us, can have a child?”

At this, Kallista drew her lips back over her teeth to remind this _hippie_ who she was speaking to. The otter chirruped to Cosima and clutched at her throat with thickly furred paws, their large and dark eyes gazed down at the mountain lion, and back up to the woman standing cool and professional before them.

Rachel felt a smile spread over her face and sniffed imperiously, “Do make yourself at home,” she purred, turning her back and leaving the way she had entered.

They heard Cosima’s otter-dæmon speak as they left, her voice high and piping in contrast to the lower timbre of her woman, “Should we tell Sarah?”

“Dunno,” Cosima murmured, ‘But, shh, later.”

“Sure,” her dæmon replied, her claws skittering as she jumped onto the metal tabletop to examine the files.

“So,” Kallista gave a strange, chirruping laugh as she and Rachel turned the corner, “That was interesting. I don't know what we expected, but-”

“It certainly wasn't that.” Rachel finished.

“Never mind. We know she's ill, and that could be useful.”

“Meaning?” Rachel prompted, glancing down at her dæmon.

“Sarah's weakness isn't simply her daughter,” Kallista purred in satisfaction, “Her weakness is her _family.”_

* * *

_“Corruption and envy and lust for power. Cruelty and coldness. A vicious probing curiousity. Pure, poisonous, toxic malice. You have never from your earliest years shown a shred of compassion or sympathy or kindness without calculating how it would return to your advantage. You have tortured and killed without regret or hesitation; you have betrayed and intrigued and gloried in your treachery. You are a cess-pit of moral filth.”_

― ‘The Amber Spyglass’ by Philip Pullman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are wonderful, and you're wonderful if you give them. 
> 
> come see me at my fanfic blog and send me prompts and shite - sarahshelena.tumblr.com


	5. sex is simply another word for subservience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set in s2ep5 
> 
> (huge additions and major edits to original chapter 5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit rather ashamedly that I didn't bother writing filler for the two episodes that rachel is in taiwan
> 
> firstly, because I'm not that good a writer. 
> 
> secondly, because I know absolutely nothing about the country, culture or cuisine (I suck) 
> 
> and lastly because I literally could not write two episodes worth of just rachel being rachel in a setting I'm totally unfamiliar with, no matter how much I love her
> 
> and those who reread this may find a certain clone who has until now been a mystery in this fic and to its main character (and perhaps always will be...)
> 
> enjoy

Rachel’s foot tapped in staccato against the gum-littered concrete sidewalk as taxis pulled in and out of the airport car bays; her Pierre Cardin luggage was piled precariously next to her, with Paul standing unmoving beside them like a glorified bellboy.

Kallista paced agitatedly beside Rachel and her designer luggage, tail lashing angrily back and forth.

As Rachel hung up from attempting to contact Daniel for the twenty-seventh time, her phone buzzed with a call from Leekie, at which she stabbed her thumb at the ‘Accept’ option on the touchscreen.

“Aldous?” she answered furiously, “What is going on? Why isn't Daniel at the airport to assist me?”

_“Rachel, I'm sorry, but-”_

“‘Sorry’ isn't going to shorten the twenty minutes I’ve had to wait, is it? What is the explanation for this lapse in service?”

_“Daniel is dead.”_

Kallista's head snapped up to look at Rachel’s frozen expression, her sandy eyes fierce and wary.

_“Security discovered his body in your apartment late last night after several noise complaints. It seems there was…”_

“...what?” Rachel snapped, jolted out of her brief shock by his treating her as if she was squeamish, weak.

_“There were reports of screaming and crashing, loud music and… and blood was found tracked through the building.”_

“Savages.” Kallista snarled.

They both knew only too well who had done this.

Daniel clearly had faltered in his duty and Sarah Manning had gained the upper hand. And it seemed Helena had entered the picture once more, in an entirely new role: the protector.

To Sarah, anyway. To Rachel she would always be the aggressor, the feral animal.

“Thank you, Aldous,” she breathed, “I'll be there shortly.”

_“No, really, there's no need for-”_

She hung up and called the concierge.

He answered immediately, stammering into the phone, undoubtedly shaken and suspicious, _“Yes, Miss Duncan? If this is Miss Duncan, I assume it is as this is her number, but if it isn't, then-”_

“Be quiet, Troy, and tell me one thing. Who did this?”

_“Security noticed two women, one or both closely matching y-your description leaving together, one in black, one in bl- in a bloodstained white dress.”_

“How did they get in?” Rachel’s tongue flicked against her teeth as she meticulously enunciated every syllable in an effort to remain calm.

He cleared his throat, _“The one in black may have stolen a staff swipe card or- uhm, snuck in as I was ensuring the apartment conditions adhered to your- to uh, to her specifications. I don't know about the other. Blood covers most of her face, so the cameras haven't captured her image as they should have done. I'm terribly sorry about this, Miss Duncan.”_

“Hmm,” murmured Rachel, who had begun to shake with rage, reaching down and fondling Kallista's ears, methodically reassuring herself through contact.

_“Miss Duncan?”_

“Consider yourself, as of now, unemployed."

She hung up.

* * *

Walking through the halls, she noticed patches of the wall had been cleaned. Shiny streaks marred the glass screens and Kallista smelled blood.

Bile rose in Rachel’s throat and she forced herself to swallow in distaste.

Paul followed her through the corridors, shadowing her into the apartment where Aldous intercepted her, peaceably holding up his hands, “Rachel, you don't need to see this.”

“I demanded to, now _move,”_ she ordered.

One of the forensic cleanup team shot her an indignant look before turning away. Kallista fought the urge to snap at the young man’s lemur dæmon and leaned comfortingly against Rachel's leg.

Aldous waited a moment before stepping aside to let her see the man stretched out beneath a clear plastic sheet.

Rachel stood there a few seconds, clasping her purse tightly before voicing the obvious: that the plastic was impeding her view of him.

“I'd like to _see_ him, please.”

Paul crossed to Daniel’s side and squatted beside his body, drawing back the sheet to show the dead man and the darkly bloodstained carpet beneath him.

Rachel stepped closer and crouched carefully beside him, softly closing his eyes to honor his passing.

“I'm sorry, Rachel.” Aldous spoke, spoiling the moment, “Daniel was a very loyal man.”

Placing a gentle hand on Daniel's cold cheek, Rachel blinked away tears. She wouldn’t find another man that was so eager to follow her orders and carry them out in such a savagely beautiful fashion. Not in this lifetime.

“To you,” she murmured dismissively, straightening up.

She'd known all along that Daniel had not only reported her general wellbeing to Aldous, but her day-to-day activities, possibly including the sordid details that weren't for anyone to know about. 

No wonder her childhood guardian was always prying into her personal life. Daniel was his key into her sexual habits as well. She shook her hair out of her face at this unpleasant reminder of how she was so surrounded by those she did not trust.

“To us both.” Aldous corrected.

That she could forgive. He would never relinquish his self-gratuitous possessiveness of her while he still drew breath. That, at least, wasn't Daniel's fault.

“This wasn't Sarah,” Paul informed them, still hovering down by Daniel's side, at Kallista’s eye level. The mountain lion stared at him impassively and the eagle-dæmon on Paul’s shoulder glared back imperiously.

Resisting the urge to reply sarcastically, Rachel agreed, “No...I believe we all recognise the handiwork.”

Her gaze fell upon a smeared print on the bathroom mirror — blood mixed with some other viscous fluid she never wished to know the origin of.

“Your white whale, Aldous,” she said mockingly.

“Seems we have a pair of them,” he replied, missing the edge to her tone, “Security footage shows her leaving… _with_ Sarah,” his voice dropped considerably, “The twins are back together…”

 _Only thirty years on…_ Rachel mused.

“Fascinating, actually!” Aldous proclaimed, adding, “If one can rise above it, Rachel.”

Ignoring him, she had picked up the evidence bag with the kitchen knife inside. Blood coated the blade and handle.

She’d used this to cut open avocados.

“Animals,” she hissed quietly. Kallista echoed her revulsion.

“How was Taiwan, Paul?” Aldous murmured conversationally, “You two get along?” he added conspiratorially.

Daniel had just died from a stab wound to the throat and Aldous wanted to know if she and Paul had slept together in the days preceding it.

His perversions knew no bounds.

“He performed admirably,” Rachel allowed, just to silence him, and crossed through the bathroom to the bedroom, scanning it as Kallista stalked through the room, sniffing inaudibly.

Rachel's eyes fell upon the bed. The sheets weren't as pristine as housekeeping always left them. Somebody had lain here, possibly more than one person. Her stomach turned.

Her eyes flicked to the dresser, and the DVD/VCR player that sat upon it. It was paused at _0:03:18._

She strode determinedly to the player and ejected the videotape.

“She could have killed you, you know.” Aldous reminded her, standing by her shoulder.

“Thank you for your concern,” Rachel choked out, seeing **‘Cambridge 1991’** written on the label.

Flashes of a dark haired little girl with pigtails playing in the autumn leaves with her parents cut through Rachel's mind. Her mouth twisted at the thought of Sarah Manning watching these incredibly private pieces of her, her unworthy eyes staining the ribbons of film like soot streaking white fabric.

“There's a kindler, gentler way, Rachel,” Aldous berated her softly, “This is all the result of your heavy handed tactics.”

She shut the drawer, shaking her hair out of her face, “Trust me, Aldous,” her voice was pitiless, “I've only just begun.”

Picking her way through the apartment in heels on bloodstained tile and carpet, Rachel lifted her chin to the sunlight streaming in through the windows, exhaling slowly.

“Paul, could you get me a drink, please,” she glanced over her shoulder, “Sparkling water, no ice.”

He was getting used to service, as there was almost no look of quizzical confusion as to why she couldn't get it herself. Rachel sat at the dining table, and Aldous hovered nearby as her drink was poured.

“Sit, please, Paul,” she ordered.

He obeyed.

“I'm in need of a new monitor,” she began.

“You have a monitor?” he asked, a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth, undoubtedly thinking that she wasn't so different from the others after all.

“She _did.”_ Aldous quirked an eyebrow, “Daniel.”

“I've been self aware since I was a child,” Rachel told the man sitting across from her, pointedly ignoring the one who had brought her up, “I'm not _exempt_ from the programme. I simply enjoy a unique vantage. One with privilege.”

“She needs full-time personal security,” Aldous interjected, leaving Rachel to fume silently at his blatant disrespect towards her, “And you submit data to _me_ on her health and wellbeing like any other subject.”

 _Like any other subject,_ indeed. Monitors to other subjects didn't have the $65,000 increase in yearly income that her monitor was privy to. Of course, that was nothing to her own payment, but it didn't only keep her men loyal, it kept them in line. She'd see if Paul had enough man in him to remain by her side and only tell Aldous what he was required to. It was up to him how he'd do in his new position.

“Are you asking me if I'm interested or reminding me I have no choice?” Paul directed this to both of them, but Aldous only began pacing, his tongue poking grotesquely out from between his lips and allowed Rachel to answer him.

Rachel smiled imperceptibly, “It's a promotion, Paul. A _very_ handsome one, if you have the starch for it.”

Rachel kept eye contact with Paul’s severe gaze; as he challenged her, glowering, she remained straight-faced and calm before acknowledging her childhood guardian.

“Where are you with the new stem-cell line, Aldous?”

“My in-vitro tests have been very promising,” he boasted as his dæmon preened herself on his shoulder, “Promising enough to treat Cosima.”

Rachel took a slow sip of sparkling water, the chill remaining on her tongue after she swallowed, Kallista rose from her sitting position and pressed herself against Rachel's leg, “Shut down the tests. Until Sarah comes to heel, Cosima will suffer.” 

Redemptive fury swirled within her, coupling with an unhealthy and powerful curiosity. 

“And I’d like whatever files you have on Sarah’s twin sent to my email address, and send me the footage from last night. I want to see this Helena for myself.” 

“Whatever CCTV captured of her was very little,” Aldous admitted, “It seems she's been trained in stealth as well as-” 

“I know perfectly well what manner of training she's had,” Rachel cut him off, “Just do as I say.” 

He grimaced but then nodded, “Of course, Rachel. You’ll receive it once I'm back at the office.” 

* * *

Opening up the video clip in iTunes, Rachel scanned the three minutes and forty-seven seconds worth of grainy footage. She scrubbed through it, scanning four different views of corridors - two through the ground floor and two through the floor her apartment was housed in, only managing to find the footage blurring as the cameras suddenly skewed out of view until they showed shots of mostly the wall or the floor. Undoubtedly Helena had tampered with them to keep herself out of their line of vision.

After a few moments, a shadow melted over the picture - a silhouette flickering, creeping over the wall and then disappearing. 

Rachel's heart was in her throat. This was what had been hunting them all, taking Dyad’s products out one by one, until it found Sarah and rescinded its murderous rampage. 

She pushed away the thought that this Prolethean assassin would've found her eventually and ended her, too. 

She spent the next few minutes scrubbing through the remaining blank footage until something flickered in one of the quartered partitions of the screen — it showed about a third of the corridor, the rest blank wall — until a hideous apparition loped into view. 

Helena was dressed in what looked like a bridal gown, torn and filthy — but what almost activated Rachel’s insensitive gag reflex was that she was coated with blood all down her left side. With one arm supporting Sarah Manning, who was being supported by on her other side by her tall black wolf dæmon, Helena leant on the wall to keep herself upright with the added weight, leaving bloody handprints on the walls and glass panes that stretched through every room. 

But there was no second dæmon. 

Kallista recoiled from the screen, her ears set back and her fur bristling, holding back a scream of revulsion. A person without a dæmon was an abomination, a thing of nightmares. With no dæmon you might as well have no face or no name. You could strike fear into hardened criminals with such an image. 

Rachel leant in closer to her laptop, squinting for a sign of it. It could just have been very small — a bird or perhaps an insect or arachnid. Yes, that was it. But she couldn't shake the feeling of unease, which was very present in her own dæmon, creating a shudder that ran through them both. 

As if sensing her gaze, Helena looked up from her weary trudging and stared straight into the camera, the intensity of her glance causing Rachel to physically recoil from her laptop, her hands flying off the touchpad and going immediately to Kallista’s neck and the comfort of her fur. 

Helena grinned right into the camera, having done what she wanted and gotten what she came for. 

Sarah. 

There was a definite madness present in Helena’s expression, but also something more than mere insanity or mental instability. As loath as Rachel was to admit it, there was a fierce and uncommon intelligence there. 

_Pure animal instinct,_ she told herself, _nothing more._

But when she opened the PDF file and scanned whatever meagre information Aldous had scraped together on her background, beneath Helena’s name, her known (or assumed) date of birth and gender, under ‘dæmon form’ it listed no animal, species or sex — it simply read: _‘Unknown.’_

Kallista finally stirred from Rachel's grip on her, looking into her woman’s face which was still frozen in shock, “I know we don't like her, but I think it's time to admit that we may have underestimated Helena. Don't you?” the mountain lion blinked stoically up at her. 

Rachel slammed her laptop shut, seething at the response Helena had created — had no right to create in her. 

Fear. 

She stood abruptly and left the office, making her way to the sitting room.

* * *

**MEPHISTOPHELES:**

_I am the spirit that negates._  
_And rightly so, for all that comes to be_  
_Deserves to perish wretchedly;_  
_‘Twere better nothing would begin._  
_Thus everything that your terms, sin,_  
_Destruction, evil represent —_  
_That is my proper element._

– Walter Kaufmann “Introduction”, Goethe’s Faust _1963_

* * *

The buttons on the remote control had already warmed to her body temperature, the rubber worn smooth by months and months of her fingers constantly rewinding, rewinding, rewinding.

_“Well, I'm going to have to come after you and tickle you! Here I come, the tickle monster!”_

The little girl squealed and screamed with laughter, running into her mother’s arms.

_“Oh, I'll save you, don't worry!”_ the woman cried. 

Susan Duncan had been quite beautiful. Such a pity.

_“Thanks, Mummy. I love you.”_

They embraced in the crunchy leaves, the little girl in her stormy blue coat and her mother in an orange coat that clashed with her dark blonde hair.

 _“What about poor Daddy?”_ Susan Duncan pouted until the little girl smiled for the man behind the camera.

_“I love you too, Daddy.”_

Kallista rose silently from her spot beside Rachel on the couch and turned to Paul who'd been standing there watching.

Rachel paused the tape. The little girl remained smiling, frozen on the screen.

“Sarah's trying to learn everything about me. Just as I am with her.”

There was no answer, only the rustling of feathers as the eagle-dæmon shifted restlessly on his shoulder.

Rachel glanced back at him, speaking through tight lips, “I want us to be clear, Paul. As my monitor, you report my data to Aldous, but you _work_ for me. Do you understand?”

Kallista’s lip curled in irritation when he replied, “Not exactly,” and Rachel turned on the couch to look directly at him.

“I've known Leekie my entire life.”

The little girl on the screen had died with her parents. The woman she was now was born the moment their lives were snuffed out.

“When my adoptive parents died, he became something of a guardian to me.”

He barely warranted the name.

She stood, “But now… my position in the corporation essentially outranks his Dyad directorship.”

Rachel turned and crossed to the window, Kallista stepping off the leather couch to stand beside her.

“He can become too attached to his subjects, myself included. Sometimes he can't make the hard choices…” Rachel looked over at Paul, “Did you read the report on Cal Morrison?”

He nodded, “Made his money in micro-optics, may have anti-corporate leanings. What is it you're looking for?”

Rachel approached him slowly, walking along the floor-to-ceiling windows that opened up onto the balcony, “I want to know if he's the other side of Kira’s biological equation.”

“The timeline works,” he answered, “We can place him with Sarah eight years ago.”

Rachel exhaled, stepping down the few stairs that led up to the cityscape view, “Does that bother you?” she asked, delighting in his obvious discomfort, “That Sarah's back with the father of her child?

His expression was unchanged, “No.”

She allowed him that small rebellion and walked past his rigid form, “Up until now, your entanglements with Sarah have been your saving grace, Paul.”

She stopped at the kitchen counter and surveyed the gun placed on its surface in a clear evidence bag.

“I never asked her to cross my path.”

Rachel’s fingers tapped on the glass benchtop, “You didn't ask for me, either.”

The plastic crinkled in her hands as she took up the bag and its legally flammable contents, turning to him, “But now it's time to make a decision, Paul. This is Dan- this was Daniel's gun. It can be tied to the murder of a police officer.”

He studied her differently than before, the piercing brown eyes of his dæmon surveying her as well. She and the mountain lion beside her met their gaze unashamedly.

“There's no middle ground any more.”

Paul steeled himself, the eagle on his shoulder snapping her shining beak expectantly as her man set his jaw.

“What do you need me to do?”

Rachel smiled thinly — in true satisfaction.

Kallista began to purr.

* * *

Kallista groomed herself, pointedly ignoring Rachel as she stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows — she hissed in air through her teeth, the cool oxygen hitting the back of her throat, one hand on her breast and the other between her thighs.

Alternating between thrusting her fingers in and out of herself and grating her fingertips roughly against her insides, Rachel's focus was on her reflection in the window, and the golden bracelet around her wrist. The city lights glowed through the windows, playing off the precious metal.

Sensation taking over common decency, Rachel found herself rocking her hips into the hand that was pressed between her thighs, moaning.

Moments after her climax, there was warmth seeping out of her. Rachel reached cautiously between her legs, drew her hand out and studied the slick substance painted across her fingers with resigned indifference.

She stood and walked to the bathroom to wash her hands and prepared whilst Kallista paced restlessly; she loathed the very idea of any part of Paul touching any part of Rachel, and let her woman know, though not in so many words.

She resigned to cleaning herself; rough pink bristles combing and wetting and cleaning her fur while she knew every moment Rachel felt her distaste and ignored it.

Rachel needed this, they both did, Kallista felt it in her own flesh, but Rachel _wanted_ it, her very skin was afire in anticipation.

She slipped a negligée down over her body, the navy-lavender satin _whisked_ over her nipples, the hem coming to just below where her buttocks met the taut flesh of her thighs.

She wore no underwear.

The cougar had her back turned in protest: she wanted no part of this. Paul had faltered in his duty, in his _job_ — while Daniel was away chasing the she-wolf Sarah Manning, who had fooled him and laid her filthy, unwashed hands with their dirty fingernails on _her_ Rachel — and he had let it happen.

"It's almost as if you're _rewarding_ him," Kallista snarled, unintentionally breaking her silence, to her chagrin and Rachel's satisfaction.

"Paul," she called — hearing his movements and knowing he was close through Kallista's senses — as she was daubing on perfume to mask the scent of perspiration.

She sensed him behind her.

"Sixty-three Margaux," she ordered, "Two glasses."

He moved away silently.

"Just tell me one thing." Kallista flicked her heavy ears, her voice too low for Paul and his eagle-dæmon to hear.

Rachel swiped the lipstick across the plump lines of her mouth, painting them a menstrual crimson, "Yes?"

The mountain lion's head turned to look at her woman, "Are you going to sleep with him because Sarah did, or in spite of it?"

Rachel slowly rolled up and closed the lipstick; glanced at her dæmon, unsmiling.

"You already know the answer to that," she replied. It was possible for your dæmon to keep things from you and vice versa, but not easy. Kallista knew each and every part of Rachel, every thought she had was shared and agreed upon by her dæmon, every memory carefully locked away. Rachel knew she wouldn't find another that understood and mirrored her ways.

Not in a male monitor, anyway.

Rachel heard the _clink_ of glasses and felt her skin shiver over the muscle beneath, the way Kallista's fur would sometimes ripple of its own accord, rearranging over her frame.

Rachel turned and waited.

The chilled glass of wine slid into her palm, the fragile stem held between her index and middle finger; she held it delicately and brought the rim to her lips.

Paul went to do the same, but stopped when she hissed, _"Put it down."_ Kallista's tail lashed restlessly back and forth from her place at Rachel's side.

Paul's dæmon, the white-bellied sea eagle, shifted from foot to foot on his shoulder, not taking her eyes off Rachel. Her talons gleamed.

Rachel met her gaze and took a sip, pooling the wine in her mouth, taking in air through her nose and feeling the flavours skimming over her tongue.

She swallowed, looked at Paul, judging, deliberating.

"Take off your shirt."

* * *

At the moment she straddled Paul and sank down onto him, she felt what Sarah must have felt: as if her internal organs were being pushed aside and rearranged to make room for his size, wishing she could walk around always with the feeling of being utterly full and sated.

But there was an underlying desire, a ravenous hunger, as if she were being filled with the warm solid life that she wanted to feel grow within her and slip out of her in an entirely new, innocent way — the very opposite of what was slipping in and out of her now, and she shuddered deliciously at the comparison.

(Pity that this would not result in a child. Still, she wanted no part of him inside her more than was necessary, so contraception was essential.)

Her mouth fell open like skin parting to leave a gaping wound — red at the edges and the curious, bottomless fleshy underneath before the blood begins to flow and the strangeness stops — a sound escaped from her lips; a high, short groan, stifled quickly, but it was the closest she would ever come to uttering a whimper in the presence of another person.

The cougar stayed by Rachel's feet, keeping as much distance between herself and the white-grey eagle — who was perched on the back of the chair her man was in — as she could. When Rachel grasped Paul's wrist and brought his hand around her throat, Kallista flashed her teeth and snarled warningly as Rachel moaned.

The steely brown eyes of the sea-eagle cut back at her in challenge as the fingers tightened around Rachel's neck.

Rachel cried out in release, and continued to rock into him and extend the feeling as long as she could. Paul, not having come yet, responded, jerking his hips up to meet her grinding movements, his hand staying at her throat, not daring to touch her anywhere else. His release came eventually and brought another climax for her — which was what she'd been waiting for.

Rachel stood up and off him, leaving the condom on his quickly softening penis, pressing her lips together in thinly disguised amusement at the sight. The eagle-dæmon ruffled her feathers indignantly.

Paul exhaled, but she wasn't finished with him.

“You’ll be tracking Aldous for me tonight,” she told him, “Keep an eye on him, and report any suspicious activity to me. He's all too eager to make contact with Sarah Manning again, and she will undoubtedly use his foolishness to her own advantage. Once there is any sign whatsoever, hide or hair, do not lose sight of her. She is searching for something, and I will not be the last to know about it. You will _make sure_ that I am not that last to know, and you will return to me immediately. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes.” Paul dressed himself and stalked out of the room, his dæmon taking flight from the table and swooping magnificently onto his shoulder, glaring balefully back at the two of them as her man walked out the door.

Kallista shook herself in a dignified manner, glad that it was over, “Let's hope he still does as he's told.”

“You can take the man out of Afghanistan…” Rachel smirked.

Rachel turned away and walked into the bathroom, feeling the soft pad of heavy paws on the carpet behind her.

The satisfaction she felt from their coupling was magnified when she heard the gentle click of the door shut after him.

She allowed herself a small exhalation of contentment — Kallista stretching on the cool tiles — and turned on the shower, cast her garment onto the tiled floor and walked into the shower, closing her eyes and basking under the hot spray.

When she stepped out, her flesh golden and steaming, Rachel dried herself and reached down to touch her dæmon, but the massive sandy-furred cat bared her teeth, shook her head in disgust and moved away. Underneath the clean scent of soap, Rachel still smelt of sex.

* * *

  _“Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it.”_

― ‘Infinite Jest’ by David Foster Wallace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments give me life :3
> 
> come see me at my fanfic blog and send me prompts and shite - sarahshelena.tumblr.com


	6. nurture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set in s2ep7
> 
> this chapter is not completely new, but the first half is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DÆMON FORMS**
> 
> Mrs S' dæmon is shown [here](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com/tagged/wolverine)
> 
> he has no name as of yet but if I write any more about them I will find one for him
> 
> * * *
> 
> Ethan Duncan's dæmon – her name is Tyro, but her name is not mentioned in the fic – is a barking frog (craugastor augusti augusti) shown [here](https://www.flickr.com/photos/stuartwildlife/3759121053)

“I told you to track Aldous,” Rachel snapped over Paul’s excuses, “I _knew_ he was up to something, and it turns out he was meeting with _Sarah.”_ she continued, stirring her tea feverishly, “Does he even know or care what he's doing? I told him I'd handle her.”

“There's something else.” 

Rachel looked up at Paul, tilting her head to shift her hair out of her eyes, “Yes?” 

“Sarah was there to tell Leekie that they've found someone from the original cloning experiment. Someone with knowledge. A scientist.” 

“Who?” she clenched her jaw. 

Paul’s brow furrowed, “Your father.” 

Rachel blinked, and Kallista stood immediately, rising like a surging wave. Rachel clung to her with white-knuckled fingers. 

“How?” she breathed, tears stinging her eyes. 

“Siobhan Sadler made me an offer to bring to you personally. They want to trade Ethan Duncan for Felix. And they don't seem to care which of you they give your father to, you or Leekie. That's what Sarah was discussing with Leekie last night.” 

Rachel was shaking with rage, and clutched the fur of Kallista’s neck to anchor her emotions. 

“I knew we couldn't trust him.” she was addressing Kallista now, looking into her face and stroking the cat’s ears, “And now I find out he's making deals behind my back, and for my own father. God knows what he’ll do with him.” 

She forced her features into a smooth mask and her voice into something resembling a calm request. 

“Call the car, Paul. I would like to see him.” 

* * *

The frigid air bit at the exposed flesh on the backs of Rachel’s knees as she stood on the doorstep of Siobhan Sadler’s house, musing on how utterly foolish it was for the woman to invite them into her own home.

Rachel waited until Paul reached past her shoulder to rap on the door; the wool of his coat brushed against her shoulder and she gritted her teeth in an effort to not flinch away from the closeness. Kallista nosed at the hand Rachel kept in her coat pocket, and both of them knew that if it wasn't so cold, she'd carefully press her teeth into the silken flesh stretched over the back of Rachel’s hand to comfort her. 

The door opened, and there stood Mrs Sadler. 

At first glance, a reasonably attractive woman; late forties, early fifties perhaps – stocky, though, and more than physically capable of posing a serious threat to her person, if it came to it. At her feet stood a creature about the size of a medium dog — but it wasn't a dog at all. Siobhan Sadler’s dæmon was a wolverine, broad-shouldered, imposing despite his size, and thickly muscled. His pelt was a dark brown with grazes of gold-tipped fur down his sides. He gazed imperiously up at Rachel, then lowered his dark eyes to Kallista’s, white teeth poking out over his lower jaw. Kallista didn't acknowledge him. 

“Hello, Paul,” Siobhan Sadler smiled darkly at the man in front of her and he stepped closely _(almost intimately)_ past her, the wolverine-dæmon shifting behind his woman – and into the house, leaving her face-to-face with Rachel. 

“Do come _in.”_ her words were snide, hardly the way to make a first impression. 

One look into Mrs Sadler’s eyes and it wasn't hard to learn from their unforced calm that this woman would act utterly without mercy. Rachel’s face remained smooth as she stepped into the house, only inches away from this imposing Irishwoman and her intimidating dæmon. 

“You have fifteen minutes,” Mrs Sadler’s tone was severe, her voice dangerously soft, “Once you're gone, your father will remain here...if anybody moves against this house, I _will_ put a bullet in his head. Are we clear?” 

Rachel moved her head in a barely distinguishable nod. If it was necessary, Paul could overpower Siobhan Sadler. Rachel had no worry for her father’s life, for now. 

She turned and walked hesitantly towards the dining room table, and closer to the old man sitting in the chair facing the wall. 

The shrunken, bent-backed figure in the chair straightened and stood. The ragged clothes hung off his frame. He turned, showing a withered face and pasty skin. His wrinkled lips spoke her name.

"Rachel. My dear, dear Rachel."

His voice was just the same as it was from the videotapes, although it sounded rusty from misuse or age. But it was him. She felt tears prick at her eyes and blur her vision.

Kallista remained steadily beside Rachel, gold-and-green eyes fixed upon the large mottled-brown frog held in the tall, thin man's trembling fingers.

Rachel's voice was choked when she stumbled over the only words she could think to say, though they couldn't disguise the overwhelming emotion that flooded through her and welled up in her eyes.

"Hello, Father."

The cougar exhaled through her nostrils, resulting in a soft _whuff_ of air.

“I can hardly believe it's been twenty years, Rachel.” 

She passed by him to sit at the table, shifting the chair and angling her body towards him, her eyes still brimming with tears. Kallista sat closely by her side. 

“My goodness, how you've grown,” he said softly. His dæmon croaked softly on his knee, her eyes half-closed. 

“You don't know the truth about your mother, do you?” he asked. 

Rachel stared at him for a moment, hearing but not registering her dæmon's chirrup of wary intrigue. “The truth?” she echoed. 

“Your mother was murdered,” Ethan Duncan told her, “Aldous Leekie had her killed for our sabotaging the cloning programme once we found out Dyad’s intentions for it. The fire- I- I was the only one to get out alive.” 

The tears were trickling down her cheeks unbidden. Kallista rested her chin on Rachel's knee, rumbling deep in her chest; a mixture of both anger and sorrow. 

Ethan Duncan took his daughter’s hands. She was too distraught to care about being touched, even if it was by her own father. He hung his head, “Please forgive me.” 

Choking back sobs, she took in halting, faltering breaths and pulled her hands away, “Of course,” she managed, now shaking with an entirely different emotion: rage. 

* * *

Rachel waited in Leekie's office, the silence cool against her skin.

She didn't have to glance at Kallista to know her dæmon wouldn't give her emotions away. Kallista was, in fact, partly the reason why everyone was so afraid of her. If Rachel began to slip, if even her eye twitched, her lip trembled, someone would see it and find weakness in that momentary flicker. The massive mountain lion's unchanging expression of haughty austerity and restrained ferocity never betrayed Rachel's feelings in company. Of course, there were instances when even her control was severely tested.

Rachel pressed two fingers down over the skin of her left wrist, feeling the minute pulse, a gentle push against her fingertips.

Aldous strode into her view, loping to the door when he noticed her, and his magpie-dæmon cocked her head inquisitively to the side. He slowed in confusion and opened the door carefully. Clever of him, Rachel mused, to not make any sudden movements. She was taut as a wire and didn't trust Kallista to remain calm if Aldous crossed the line of their personal space. Rachel crossed her hands neatly over her lap, keeping as still as she could.

It was difficult to remain immobile when both halves of her wanted to tear him to pieces.

Aldous spread his hands questionably, chuckling awkwardly as he approached her, his dæmon perched on his shoulder.

Rachel lifted her chin, "My father sends his regards."

She saw the flicker of surprise and apprehension pass over his face and understood Kallista's appraisal of his subtle shift in body language. But his dæmon fluttered her wings sharply in shock and betrayed his thoughts.

Aldous recovered quickly, "It's important you think very carefully about your next steps, Rachel," he sounded as if he was warning her. How foolish of him.

"Or what?" Rachel hissed dangerously, _"I'll die in a fire?"_

"Ethan and Susan Duncan left us no choice."

"Oh please, by salting your Petri dishes," she murmured, unable to resist mocking him one last time, feeling her dæmon's rage.

"Yes. They set the science back decades." Aldous snapped. Then his voice grew hushed, "When they tried to run away with you... I intervened."

Rachel's teeth clenched, the tension making the tendons stand out in her neck.

He took a step towards her, raising his finger, "Your task now," he informed her, "is to put it behind you and _do not fight_. It won't end well for you."

It was amusing to see him lecture her as if she were still four feet tall and in plaits. She felt her dæmon's desire to bite his finger off fill her until her teeth itched. He wouldn't be wagging it at her then, now would he?

Kallista, incensed by his audacity, half-rose from her sitting position and Rachel shifted; laid a calming hand on her head.

"It's already over, Aldous."

Turning, she unlocked her phone and called Marion. The voice that answered was smooth and commanding.

_"Rachel, is it done?"_

"It's in motion," Rachel raised her chin but kept her hand on the cougar's head, knowing her dæmon's sandy, forest-flecked eyes never left Aldous.

_"Not a happy task, I know. He was your mentor."_

"Yes, he was." Rachel locked eyes with him, finding recognition in his face at hearing Marion's voice and confusion at the words they spoke.

_"But he lost his way with Sarah Manning."_

"Hmm," Rachel stroked Kallista's ears thoughtfully.

_"Serves us right, really, putting a lab coat in the big chair. Let me know when it's done, yeah?"_

As she turned to end the call, Rachel saw real fear for the first time wash over Aldous' sagging features, his dæmon peeping quietly in fright on his shoulder, opening and closing her iridescent blue-green-purple wings in confusion and fear.

"Rachel-" he whimpered.

"Go now," she instructed, speaking over him, "Don't get in your car. Don't go home. _You might survive."_ Kallista's almost imperceptible hiss followed Rachel's words, enforcing her woman's cooly delivered threat.

"Thank you." Aldous almost sobbed.

She shook her head imperceptibly, an ironic smile playing at the corners of her mouth, "It's foolish to spare you." Rachel murmured, more to herself than him, "But you raised me. Nurture prevails."

He took a slow step towards her, unthreatening. She didn't move. The cougar beside Rachel tensed, her fur shifting over her frame.

At the light touch of his hands on her shoulders, Rachel felt the growl that travelled through Kallista vibrating through her own fingers, though no sound escaped, hearing feathers rustling.

When he kissed her forehead, Rachel simply relished the fact that she'd never see him or suffer his touch again. Her eyes met his as he moved away... and turned his back.

She removed her hand from the cougar's head.

Kallista's sudden lunge at Aldous sent the DYAD director rushing from the room, running for his life while his dæmon flapped her wings frantically to keep up, squawking until they were out of sight and hearing range.

Rachel's lips tightened for a moment, then she corrected her already ramrod-straight posture, exhaling shakily.

Kallista stood before her, fierce and unmoving.

* * *

  _“I am what you designed me to be. I am your blade. You cannot now complain if you also feel the hurt.”_

— Estella, Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments give me life :3
> 
> come see me at my fanfic blog and send me prompts and shite - sarahshelena.tumblr.com


	7. savage & seductive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set in s2ep8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where it all goes off the rails - good luck with my version of events, readers. 
> 
> and an additional warning to readers: there are elements of rape fantasies, violent sex and sexual violence in this chapter
> 
> be safe and enjoy

_"You've reached Paul Dierden. Leave a message."_

The sun streamed in through the office window, bathing the predominantly white room in a creamy glow.

Rachel swung the leather chair to face the brightly-lit window, holding her phone up to speak into it, leaving her fifth message.

"Paul, your absence is inconvenient. And your silence is irksome," she set her jaw, grinding her teeth until she felt the inaudible, almost-shriek of the enamel wearing down.

Rachel exhaled with difficulty, forcing herself to relax, "Please. You know I hate to worry," she bit out, feeling Kallista's head butt against her thigh comfortingly.

She hung up in irritation just as Delphine walked in with her dæmon right behind her — he was a fox with the most eye-catching coat, his fur a bright, creamy gold, every strand seemed tipped with sunlight, though his paws and the velvety fur of his ears were black, as was his nose, which was at that moment touching Delphine's hand, the fox-dæmon standing up on his hind legs to reach her and comfort her — the mountain lion rose from Rachel's side, giving an unexpected, birdlike chirp.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Cormier," despite her dæmon's expression of obvious interest, Rachel didn't look up from her desk, typing an email while Delphine stood there uncertainly, her dæmon dropping to all fours and sitting closely by her feet.

Martin was speaking to the monitor, "Could I get you tea? Coffee?" It was, thankfully, his job to offer refreshment. Rachel valued respect and courtesy highly, but could hardly stand most obligational pleasantries. She'd had enough of those with her predecessor.

She clicked 'Send'.

"No, thank you." Delphine said politely, and turned to face Rachel, confusion evident in her expression, "Where is... Aldous?"

Rachel sighed for dramatic effect; another person to break the tragic news to. She directed her next words to the young man standing by the door, his retriever-dæmon sitting patiently beside him, "Tea, please, Martin. And could you send a man round for Paul?"

She looked at Delphine again and sighed, softening her gaze and letting her voice break a little to make it sound as if she'd been crying, "Aldous suffered a fatal heart attack on one of our jets, bound for Langley last night."

Delphine exhaled, her lip trembled, "Excuse me?" she breathed incredulously. Her dæmon pawed at her boot in obvious distress.

"I'm sorry," Rachel went on, "I know you were close." Delphine only nodded, speechless.

Rachel had always wondered what Aldous saw in this young blonde thing. It wasn't a stretch to suppose it was in how she appealed sexually to Aldous that Delphine had entered the monitor program. And knowing a withered pervert like him, it wasn't at all surprising that he'd placed his new pet in the position as monitor to (in his opinion) the most intellectually promising clone. It was relatively easy to make him think that what you were telling him to do was his idea. 

She restrained a scoff as she supposed that it was even easier when you had him inside you.

Rachel turned back to her computer, done with her tearful charade, "For now, you will report to me."

Delphine shook her head, stammering, "That's, uh-"

"Difficult," Rachel cut her off, standing up, "For us both. But despite this tragedy, it's come to light that Aldous buried crucial information about the origins of the experiment."

Delphine's dæmon flicked his ears attentively, bright eyes fixed on Rachel as she came around the desk and delivered the task she needed Delphine to carry out for her, "A line of communication is now open with Sarah."

Rachel knew she hadn't yet won the monitor over, so she stepped closer, softened her voice, smoothed her expression and laid the bait, "Delphine, we may have a breakthrough for Cosima."

Delphine visibly trembled, "Yes."

The fox-dæmon came over to Kallista, beckoned by her eyes; kept there by her authority.

"For us all." Rachel nodded minutely. If she was going to convince Delphine, she wasn't going to do it with just words. Delphine's dæmon was now leaning comfortably against Kallista. Rachel relaxed. This would be simple.

Rachel was in heels, but she still had to balance on her toes in the black pumps to reach Delphine's lips. The widening of her eyes was oddly endearing, but not at all attractive, Rachel mused as she pulled Delphine down by the collar of her shirt and kissed her.

Delphine's pink lipstick tasted chalky, and when she tentatively parted her lips, her mouth was slick, deliciously hesitant – but after a moment she responded to Rachel's tongue with such a fearful moan, the clone could already feel herself getting wet.

The fox nuzzled Kallista's face; she moved and seized the fur at the back of his neck between her teeth and tugged on it insistently, pulling the dæmon closer to her before she released his ruff and laid hold of his ears.

Delphine's hands remained at her sides, and that was where Rachel wanted them to stay... for now. She unbuttoned Delphine's blouse, fighting a moan at the taste of her tongue while Delphine's breasts were filling her palms, covered in ivory satin, trimmed with lace, Rachel couldn't think of anything more beautiful, lowering her head as if to use her lips, but instead bit down on the skin of Delphine's breast — hearing a breathless cry of pain — Rachel tugged on the flesh with her teeth, for a moment wanting to feel it tear from her bite and fill her mouth with blood.

Delphine whimpered, but Rachel released the tender skin, leaving lipstick marks on the swelling flesh and flashing her teeth in a smile, "You've wanted this for a while, haven't you," she laughed softly, not posing the words as a question; pulling away one side of the sheer, lacy bra, exposing the soft pink nipple beneath.

"Leave me," Rachel pushed Delphine away, turning and smoothing her skirt down, breathing hard. The mountain lion rounded on the golden-furred fox as he rubbed himself against her. She snarled viciously, the sound ripping out of her throat, and walked away to sit at Rachel's feet as she took her seat behind the desk.

Delphine looked shocked, hurt, almost on the verge of tears — but Rachel's expression made it clear that crying would make no impression, except perhaps to irritate her.

"Come to my apartment tonight. Mention my name at the door, you won't have a problem," Rachel stroked Kallista's head, glanced up at Delphine's brimming eyes and shook her head minutely in warning, "And don't do that when you're with me," her voice was cutting, "I don't need nor want any distractions."

She turned back to her computer, leaving Delphine to button up her blouse and stumble past Martin, who was coming in with a glass of tea.

"Are you all right, Doctor Cormier?" he blinked at her in confusion, the labrador retriever sniffing concernedly at the fox when he passed her.

"Yes- yes I'm fine, there's just- something in my eye." Delphine began to thank him, but he'd already passed by her, his dog-dæmon trotting into Rachel's office by his side.

"Thank you, Martin," she heard Rachel say, "Do make sure a car is sent around for Doctor Cormier tonight and the doorman knows to let her in."

If Martin had any thoughts about this strange request, he didn't voice them. He only nodded, "Of course, Miss Duncan," and returned to his desk outside her office, the curious brown eyes of the retriever watching Delphine and her dæmon as they left.

Rachel watched after her imperiously for a moment, wondering who she'd run to tell first – then turned back to her computer, Kallista ever-present beside her, speaking softly, but her woman didn't hear.

Rachel wanted whatever Delphine had, wanted to taste it and tear at it until it was hers, hating Delphine's relationship with her subject and hating that she herself had never had such a damnably devoted monitor.

If she had been assigned as monitor to Rachel, Delphine could've become more than a feeble protector for a foundering experiment. She could've been a lioness.

* * *

It was past midnight and Delphine hadn't shown. Rachel lounged on the sleek leather couch, cradling a glass of ‘64 Chevalier Blanc, in nothing but a slip and stilettos, while Kallista paced slowly, restlessly, uttering long, low cries that sounded almost like moaning.

Rachel shushed her, but the cougar-dæmon was yowling desperately like she was in heat, and wouldn't be silenced.

There came a soft knock at the door. Rachel placed her glass of wine carefully on the coffee table and stood, smoothing down her satin slip, hands warm on her thighs, catching her moan of anticipation before it left her lips.

She opened the door as Kallista rubbed against it, to see Delphine standing there in the same clothes she had worn that morning, a heavy coat thrown over them. Her dæmon (who Rachel had learnt was named Cheiron) stood closely behind her, self-consciously pressed against the backs of her legs. 

"Come in," Rachel took her coat and hung it up, then turned and walked away, returning to the couch and taking up her glass of wine once more. She watched Delphine standing in the middle of the apartment uncertainly, enjoying the feel of having someone else there who was all but under her control.

She just had to play it right, not frighten her, make her forget whatever concerns she had. She needed Delphine to trust her. And that, although not easy, would have to happen literally overnight.

Rachel smiled at the hours before them, sitting back on the couch and taking a sip of wine, "I can't lie, Delphine, none of my monitors have ever been as..."

_Timid. Breakable. Desirable._

"...lovely, as you."

"What do you want, Rachel?" came the wary reply, soft and inquisitive.

Rachel had noticed that Delphine always spoke her name in an undertone. Strange; as if she didn't want any fear or reverence to leak into her voice, though it did.

"Undress." Rachel told her.

Cheiron looked up at Delphine beseechingly, but she did not meet his gaze as she stood, trembling; she untucked her blouse from her trousers, but stilled when Rachel's voice slid through the silence.

"Slowly."

Delphine nodded, her cheeks pink with shame – shame or desire, she was shaking like a leaf so it was difficult to tell, perhaps both – as she began to unbutton her shirt, beginning from the bottom. With every one she loosened, another inch or so of creamy skin peeked through the white fabric. Rachel lounged contentedly on the cool leather, Kallista taut as a wire beside her, never taking her eyes away from Cheiron.

Delphine stepped out of her heels, her toes pink from being confined in the tight shoes. She unzipped her trousers at the back, twisting to reach the fastening and her shirt fell open, a pale breast showing through the parting.

Rachel's breathing was now very shallow, and she took in air through her nose to disguise her excitement. Her chest heaved, and the satin clung to her perspiring skin.

Delphine's trousers hit the cool, dark tiles of the floor and Kallista sat up, stretching luxuriously before padding over to Cheiron, who was standing warily behind his woman's legs — and circled him. Delphine's blouse now fluttered to the floor to join her trousers and shoes, leaving her standing in only her bra and underwear.

Delphine reached for the clasp at her back, but Rachel stood and walked up to her, catching at her wrist. Delphine flinched, but Rachel held her fast.

Kallista lunged at Cheiron, pinning him to the floor and exposing his white-furred stomach and throat — the cougar drew back her lips and a deep, rumbling growl issued from behind her teeth while the fox craned up to lick at her face, a guttural clicketing noise sounding in the back of his throat.

"Don't _move_." Rachel hissed, moving around Delphine, heels clicking on the floor, tracing her fingers from Delphine's stomach to her waist, and around to her back as she stepped behind her, running her nails lightly down Delphine's spine.

A flick of her fingers and the clasp was undone. Delphine shivered slightly before shrugging her arms and letting the garment fall to the floor. Rachel's hand snaked around Delphine's waist and pressed warm against her stomach; slid into her underwear. Rachel seized the fabric and tore it, ripping the lingerie off Delphine's frame until it lay in tatters on the tiles.

"Turn and face me."

Delphine met Rachel's eyes, standing face to face with her, being the shorter of them both now, as she stood naked, and Rachel still in heels.

Rachel simply stood and watched Delphine calculatingly – as if she expected her to run from the room – before stepping closer, lifting one hand to her cheek and, thumb pressing Delphine's bottom lip, coaxed her mouth open and pushed inside, admiring the pearly whiteness of her teeth, the deep pink of her gums and flesh. Rachel's thumb met Delphine's tongue and slid alongside it, the clone's own mouth gaping as she plunged her fingers into the depths of Delphine's mouth; all too fast, it was covered by Rachel's, the clone's tongue was replacing her fingers, and a deep moan soiled the silence.

The two daemons were playing fiercely, the cougar flashing her teeth while buffeting her mate with heavy, forceful paws, uttering soft, low growls; the fox submitted, squealing in his excitement.

Rachel bent forward; placing her face very close to Delphine's breasts and taking a soft, velvety nipple into her mouth. Delphine held herself still, expecting teeth and pain. But Rachel's mouth was warm, tender, and infinitely gentle, suckling and releasing, teasing the pink flesh into a turgid peak, leaving it tingling with pleasure. Rachel didn't even look up as she moved to Delphine's right breast and repeated the motions, her lips and tongue fluid ecstasy as they enfolded the silken tip of Delphine's breast.

Rachel released the damp coral-pink nipple from her lips, straightened up and murmured, "Come with me," her voice quite changed from the clipped tones she spoke in before, but the authority she commanded was absolute.

Delphine didn't even notice the mountain lion tugging roughly on Cheiron's black ears with her teeth; powerful and sensual, she butted at him with her head before padding away – he followed her as Delphine followed Rachel.

"Sit." Rachel instructed, watching as Delphine lowered herself onto the the chrome sheets; they crumpled under her. Rachel stepped up to her, pushing the straps of her slip off her shoulders until the weighty satin slid off her body and onto the carpeted floor of the bedroom, leaving her naked, standing openly _(invitingly)_ before Delphine, waiting patiently, her teeth clenched in anticipation, her lower lip jutting out as she set her jaw, lifting her chin, daring Delphine to touch her; watching as a steady hand lifted from the bed to rest against her hip, pulling her slowly closer.

Rachel now stood between Delphine's parted legs, felt the Frenchwoman's warm lips against her breastbone, tipping her head back as Delphine's mouth moved — full lips caressing dark, plump nipples and Rachel's hands became fists in her hair, mussing the golden curls and pulling Delphine's face up to hers — their lips met and Rachel slid a knee between Delphine's thighs and pushed her to lie back on the bed.

The mountain lion stepped on the fox with one massive paw – pressing Cheiron into the carpet and standing over him, uttering low, rending screams, holding him down.

Delphine breathed hard as Rachel traced a finger between her legs, dipping within her and withdrawing her hand to bring it to her lips; she watched as Rachel moaned around her fingers — just as the clone tasted what she had taken, her demeanor changed. Like a shark that has scented blood, Rachel's pupils dilated as she balanced herself on one hand and slid the other into the warm space between Delphine's legs. Her fingers thrust in without warning and Delphine gasped — she was aroused enough that it didn't hurt, but the sudden stretch and insistent force of Rachel within her was a different kind of pain entirely.

Delphine lifted her hips, pushing herself into Rachel's hand, her lips parting to form the clone's name in a whisper. Rachel bared her teeth and forced her fingers in deeper, keeping her knee behind her hand, pushing herself knuckle-deep into the swooning woman beneath her, stimulating her from the inside — hard, violent and unrelenting — until Delphine gasped sharply and cried aloud, and the hand Rachel had between her legs was suddenly moist; she pulled out of Delphine and a sheen of glutinous fluid came with her, clear and shining. Rachel considered it for a moment, watching it cling to her skin, then smeared it over Delphine's thighs, slipping her fingers into her mouth afterwards and laying down beside Delphine, closing her eyes.

Delphine lay there for a minute, breathing hard, feeling the slick wetness on her thighs. She raised herself up on an elbow and looked over Rachel's form beside her — she sat up and reached to take Rachel's shoes off — they hit the carpeted floor with muted, heavy thunks and the clink of buckles. Delphine looked back up to Rachel's face and the clone's eyes flicked open, noticing her gaze and returning it appreciatively, inviting her to move first.

Delphine's hand moved over Rachel's thigh, brushing against the soft dusting of hair between her thighs and came away wet. Rachel watched Delphine with hooded eyes and lay back as two fingers penetrated her — they slid in with no resistance, but were greedily enfolded in the tight muscle of Rachel's cunt — Delphine stretched her slightly with another finger, her entire palm now soaked in Rachel's excitement, and she briefly wondered how to please her. She thought for a moment, swirling her fingers within the clone until she came to a decision, and slowly leaned in to take the closest nipple between her lips, teasing it with her tongue, drawing the most impressive vocal confirmations that she was performing adequately.

Delphine continued her treatment of Rachel's breast and considered for a moment how she would react to different stimuli. Delphine slowly and delicately circled Rachel's clitoris with her thumb, immediately drawing a wild shriek from her. Rachel's cunt worked at her fingers, gripping them so they could no longer slide out with ease, the soft, wet sounds they made were shamefully loud in the silent apartment. Rachel trembled and shook under her hands, around her fingers as Delphine sucked gently on Rachel's nipple; thumb gently teasing her clitoris once more, drawing a sudden rush of fluid into her palm and bringing a moan, Rachel shuddering uncontrollably as Delphine's fingers slid out of her.

Delphine stayed at Rachel's apartment that night, sleeping in her bed but not sleeping _with_ her; the distinction between the two was important — Rachel didn't know what Delphine told her subject about where she had gone; she didn't care.

Witnessing Delphine spread out in her bed: hair tangled and strewn over the sheets, legs laying at an unnatural angle, panting with her whole body, her eyes glazed over with the brilliant sheen of a post-orgasmic comedown, Rachel couldn't be more pleased seeing the monitor looking so utterly fucked; dampness showed between Delphine's thighs and Rachel's fingers were thick with the scent of it.

She smiled, smoothed the damp golden curls from Delphine's forehead and kissed her sweat-beaded lips, drinking in the heavy breaths that still issued from the woman's mouth.

Kallista lay on the carpeted floor, her paws deep in Cheiron's sun-coloured fur, kneading his flesh contentedly, purring so loudly it was a wonder he and Delphine managed to sleep. But sleep they did, deeply and dreamlessly.

Rachel made her way into the bathroom; Kallista groaned, irritated, but rose and followed her woman who stepped into the shower, the cougar-dæmon bathing herself with her tongue as the thick steam fluffed up her fur.

* * *

Rachel had a call to make before meeting with her father- with Professor Duncan, and she dialed the number she had memorized by now.

The soft, precise voice sounded through the earpiece of Rachel's iPhone as soon as the call connected, _"Dyad Institute, Josephine speaking."_

"It's Rachel, Josephine."

_"Yes, Miss Duncan?"_

"Has anyone managed to get ahold of Paul?" she did her best to keep the tension out of her voice.

_"I'm afraid not. There's been no use of his bank accounts, no registered calls placed from his cell phone-"_

"No trace?" Rachel shut her eyes in frustration, "No travel alerts, no digital trail? Paul's disappeared?"

_"I'm sorry, but there seems to be no-"_

"Keep looking," she snapped, ending the call.

If Paul knew what was good for him he'd come crawling back and beg to be her monitor again. Which she might possibly consider, given his extensive uses, especially in the bedroom.

She exhaled before rising to her feet as her father entered the room, shadowed by Martin, "Professor Duncan," she addressed him firmly.

"Hello again. Rachel." Ethan Duncan stood awkwardly in the doorway, his dæmon croaking quietly in his coat's front pocket.

"I'm so...relieved we could arrange this." Rachel found herself fidgeting, and felt Kallista's paw press down heavily on her foot, reminding her to be still, "Would you like some tea?"

"Oh yes, please, my dear," he made his way across the floor with a slight limp, "Uh, with lemon?" he asked Martin, who nodded and left the two of them.

"I feel I must apologise for our last meeting," Rachel forced an easy smile, "I was overly emotional."

"Well, we both were, my dear." Ethan Duncan smiled, "It was a day I'd dreamt of for twenty years."

"Well, I have not." Rachel dismissed his comment with a thin smile, "Our relationship must remain...professional. For all concerned."

He stepped towards her, "Do you remember I used to read you _The Island of Doctor Moreau_?"

Rachel pretended to think, then smiled sweetly, "Yes," feeling Kallista bristle beside her, seething with thinly-disguised fury. How dare he ask her something like that?

"How does it go..." He thought for a moment, "Hmm, the bit about...how he'd be forgiven for hate, but not for irresponsibility."

Rachel stared at him impassively for a moment, then said truthfully, "I don't recall. Why?"

"I hope you can forgive me for being glad that Aldous Leekie is dead."

If only he _were_ dead.

Rachel kept her face carefully blank, and simply nodded, "Of course."

She gestured to the empty chair before him, "Please, sit."

Martin came in with a tray, a black tea set on it, steam billowing from the spout of the pot.

Professor Duncan searched his coat pockets, "I believe you'll need some...items-" he reached into the pocket his dæmon was residing in, and she croaked in protest, "Before I can unlock my sequences."

He plucked the brown frog out of his coat's breast pocket and placed her on the table while he continued to search for something.

Rachel watched him curiously, the father she barely remembered — and so different from the man she'd held in her mind all these years. The man who sat in front of her was feeble and flustered, easily distracted, and she found herself wondering how on earth he, of all people, was the one who'd managed to successfully clone human beings.

He fished out a notepad, turned to a fresh page and began scribbling words across it; Rachel poured his tea and placed it in front of him as he covered the notepaper in an untidy scrawl, then tore the page from the book, holding it out to her with a steady hand, "These are items I need to begin unlocking the synthetic sequences."

Rachel took it from him and scanned it thoroughly, her brow creasing, "...A floppy disk drive?" she read out, reaching for the teapot again to fill her own cup. Such outdated technology was what could unlock these sequences to save the clones and create more of them? It beggared belief.

"Well, I only claim the road map," Ethan Duncan tucked the notebook into a pocket inside his coat, "Coordinates, entirely low-tech," he said disparagingly, reaching for his tea, his dæmon letting out a _grrp!_ as his hand holding the hot cup brushed past her.

"Once you've located them, Cosima has unlimited resources." Rachel finished pouring and took up her own cup.

Her father sipped the tea, swallowed, "Ah. But the child is still the prize, isn't she? Little Kira."

At this thinly disguised accusation, Kallista straightened up and rumbled warningly low in her throat. Rachel forced herself to smile as her eyes narrowed in suspicious determination, "Answer me this, professor..."

The saccharine smirk dropped from her lips, "...why Sarah?" she demanded, "Of all of us. How is it the unmonitored _tramp_ ," she bit the word out like it insulted her to speak it, "...was successful?"

Duncan raised his eyebrows in surprise, "In her fertility?" he said incredulously, letting out a chuckle, "Rachel, she's a _failure_ , not a success. You are all barren by design."

Rachel's austere expression froze on her face — she could only blink to recover from the words, and looked down into her cup of tea to disguise the wordless rage that she kept so cooly under the surface of her flawless skin — but it came boiling to the surface so fast she thought her skin would blister and melt from her bones.

She tried to picture the face of her child, and couldn't.

_she felt the overwhelming urge to stand - and sweep aside everything on the desk in an instant_

"I suppose you couldn't have created a reproducing prototype, could you?"

_she wanted to smash everything in sight, scream at the injustice of it all, kira was hers, hers, hers, the way no child could ever be or would ever be_

"That would be irresponsible."

_her muscles screaming/kallista screaming as she lifted a chair, chipping her nails_

"Which is unforgivable."

_hurling whatever she could at the shimmering silhouettes of her laughing parents and the shadow of the child she would never have._

Rachel cleared her throat of the words she couldn't say, and stood as Martin opened the door for Delphine — who watched her warily, professionally – as she entered the office — "Doctor Cormier will introduce you to Cosima."

Professor Duncan stood, picking up his dæmon from the table and went to shake Delphine's hand with his free one; Delphine smiled politely, and murmured, _"Enchanté."_

"It's time we begin fixing your mistakes." Rachel addressed the entire room, feeling the curious gazes on her like unwelcome fingers.

Kallista nudged at Rachel's hand, took her woman's fingers into her mouth and bit down gently, comforting her.

_she couldn't breathe. she couldn't think. all she was_

_was rage_.

"Delphine," she called suddenly as they turned to leave, "If you will, could you stay? Martin will show Professor Duncan to Cosima's laboratory."

Delphine only turned back into Rachel's office and stood there as Martin ushered Ethan Duncan from the room.

Rachel breathed harshly, "Come here."

Delphine complied — kissing her back and swallowing a cry as Rachel's teeth broke the thin skin of her lips; she was forced back against the cruel edge of the glass desk, tamping down her sobs as the clone pushed three fingers inside her.

The cougar laid over the fox, holding him down with her weight and her teeth buried in the fur at the back of his neck — she tore at him, viciously, destructively.

Rachel fucked with barely restrained brutality, hooking her fingers when she entered Delphine, as if to rip out the cervix they came into contact with, and her womb with it — she fucked Delphine like she wanted to tear her open from cunt to collarbone and crawl inside her.

Rachel held Delphine closely against her, and put her mouth to her ear to tell her she wanted to be held down and fucked with a hand around her throat and split open by her fingers. She wanted to be violated.

* * *

Delphine was initially sickened by the violence instilled in the act Rachel voiced to her and wanted her to perform.

But the result was as always — Rachel got what she wanted. Delphine by now complied with the unavoidable truth: she couldn't say no to her. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to, or if she even knew how to deny this woman who demanded everything, who took what she wanted and never gave anything back.

Delphine had balked when Rachel first initiated physical contact; almost as if she could sense the presence of decay within her and tried to distance herself from it.

Now the decomposition had spread; Delphine was stained with the same impurity — the same resigned indifference. She never even answered Cosima's calls when she was at the executive suite. She didn't even have her phone on silent – it rang and rang while the two women were in Rachel's bed.

As a result, Rachel would bury herself deeper within Delphine, casting poisonous glances over at the offending object until the ringing stopped.

* * *

Hours later, Delphine woke; her fingers clenched around rapidly cooling sheets. Cheiron, curled closely around Kallista, stirred, but remained asleep. Delphine rose slowly from Rachel's bed, nude, and tiptoed over to the thermostat, setting the temperature a few degrees higher.

She glanced over at her mobile on the kitchen counter and remembered its incessant ringing earlier. She picked it up and unlocked it.

* * *

"Rachel," she whispered, laying her hand on the sleeping woman's arm, "Rachel."

The clone was alert in a moment, an abrupt growl came from her dæmon as they both woke, "Yes, what is it?" she snapped, noticing Delphine was fully dressed.

Delphine bit her lip, hesitant, but clearly upset, "Cosima has been hospitalised. She had a terrible episode, a violent seizure, vomiting blood-"

"You have to go," Rachel stated flatly.

"Yes. I do," the apology was there, layered over her words, her hand still on Rachel's arm, "I am sorry."

Rachel sat up, and the sheets fell to her waist, leaving her bare, "No, that's all right. You need to ensure her safety, monitor her wellbeing."

There was no point in being petulant. Rachel wanted her to stay, she wanted to have her again. But if would be simply foolish to keep Delphine from her subject for her own desires and lose whatever progress she had made already with her.

It was paramount that she remained neutral in Delphine's eyes.

She reached up to tangle her fingers in Delphine's mane of messy curls, and kissed her deeply, pulling her towards the bed, as if she couldn't bear the thought of her leaving.

She broke the kiss, her lips shining wetly, her voice breaking.

"But please come back." 

* * *

  _“I must be taken as I have been made. The success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two together make me.”_

 ― Estella, Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments give me life :3
> 
> come see me at my fanfic blog and send me prompts and shite - sarahshelena.tumblr.com


	8. restless & ruthless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set in s2ep9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DÆMON FORMS**
> 
> Marion Bowles' dæmon is a pale phase of Wahlberg's Eagle, shown in the links below:
> 
> https://birdlifepn.files.wordpress.com/2014/12/wahlbergs-eagle-pale-phase-1.jpg?w=900
> 
> https://birdlifepn.files.wordpress.com/2014/12/wahlbergs-eagle-pale-phase-5.jpg?w=900
> 
> * * *
> 
> Felix's dæmon is a cedar waxwing, shown in the following link, over 2000px
> 
> http://chrisdespatie.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/DSC_0288_HR.jpg
> 
> * * *
> 
> Kira's dæmon is as yet unsettled, children's daemons are able to change shape at will until they go through puberty and their dæmon takes on a fixed form that represents their personality and who they are
> 
> His name is Alaunus (though his name is not mentioned in the actual story) and the shapes he takes in this chapter are: 
> 
> a garden dormouse (eliomys quercinus) a species of mouse from Asia with beautiful markings 
> 
> http://trenca.org/wp-content/gallery/les-garrigues-cat/album-p4-19.jpg
> 
> a fennec fox, the smallest species in the canid family, a predominantly nocturnal mammal and instantly recognisable with its distinctive large ears: 
> 
> http://www.simonprior.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/desertfox3.jpg
> 
> https://c1.staticflickr.com/7/6178/6203599586_6333e7edd4_b.jpg
> 
> http://pbs.twimg.com/media/CZtTgQTWcAAPbUe.jpg:large
> 
> https://img-fotki.yandex.ru/get/4310/137106206.651/0_198128_200bc63e_orig
> 
> * * *
> 
> the original female character, Josephine, who will appear in both the sixth and seventh chapters, her dæmon is a eurasian lynx shown in the following links
> 
> https://www.flickr.com/photos/aidan_finn/6883140913/?rb=1
> 
> http://i.artfile.ru/4000x2666_755843_%5Bwww.ArtFile.ru%5D.jpg

Rachel had laid awake for a long time after Delphine had left, her eyes wide open in the dark, feeling Kallista warm beside her.

Delphine hadn't come back. 

* * *

Kallista rose immediately when Delphine entered the office. The cougar-dæmon greeted Cheiron at the door, butting her heavy head against his slenderer skull, purring; he gave a squeaky yip in reply and spoke softly to her.

"Rachel," Delphine breathed, her perfectly made-up face shining with the trails of dried tears, dropping her bag by the door and making her way to the couch where Rachel sat, cup of green tea in hand, "I am sorry..." 

Rachel set the tea aside, hearing the clink of china on glass and sat forward, asking concernedly, "Is Cosima all right?" 

Delphine took a seat next to her and shook her head, biting her lip to keep from crying, "She is stable at the moment, but has to be kept on oxygen. When I arrived she was sleeping, so I thought I'd come to you when it was appropriate," Delphine looked quite folorn, "It was too late to return last night, I thought you would be sleeping." 

She held the back of her hand to her mouth, gulping in air, "But I just- I'm not sure what to do. I'm supposed to keep her safe, but what can I do against this _cancer?"_ she sobbed. 

Cheiron jumped up to Delphine's lap, pressing himself closely to her chest to comfort her, as she was clearly distressed; he felt the same and needed to be close to her. 

Rachel laid a hand on Delphine's arm, "It's all right," she murmured, "There's nothing we can do at this moment but ensure Professor Duncan unlocks his synthetic sequences to develop a gene therapy for her," she smiled kindly, the cougar-dæmon sitting by her feet. 

Delphine sniffed and wiped at her eyes, regaining her composure, "Yes," she said thickly, "You're right. We can only do what is possible right now. Cosima is very sick, but..." 

"How are _you?"_ Rachel removed her hand from Delphine's arm, using her thumb to brush a tear from Delphine's cheek. 

Delphine shook her head, "I cannot even think about myself at a time like this. I'd feel so utterly selfish." 

Rachel nodded understandingly and turned to the table to pour Delphine a cup of tea, "How is she?" 

"The growths have spread from Cosima's uterus and lungs to her oesophagus, all her epithelial tissue..." Delphine sighed, stroking Cheiron's black ears worryingly, "...and now her kidneys." 

"You know there's a way." Rachel reminded her. 

"Yes, but it's Kira." Delphine looked at her helplessly. Both of them knew Sarah would fight like the wolf she was to protect her daughter. 

"Only until we can buy the time for Duncan to find a cure," Rachel shook her head, "We need to convince Sarah we have _no_ designs beyond that treatment." 

Delphine shifted restlessly, "Duncan was one thing, but her daughter?" 

"Please," Rachel put everything she had into that word, "Things are different now," her eyes flicked back and forth between Delphine's, "I've been lied to as well." 

"She won't believe you," Delphine whispered emphatically, holding her fox-dæmon closely to her chest with one hand. 

Rachel held her gaze, "Do you?" 

Delphine lips parted as she fumbled for words, "I am in the middle — committed to my subject." Delphine had lowered her eyes as she spoke, and Rachel hadn't missed it. She felt a surge of longing when she saw the tender expressions flicker across Delphine's face at the thought of Cosima. 

Kallista batted at Cheiron's bushy tail with her heavy paw until he jumped down from the couch to join her, fondly nosing at her thickly muscled neck. 

"Well said." Rachel forced out, standing up and letting out a sigh as she walked to the desk, facing Delphine — and made her decision. 

"Doctor Cormier." 

Delphine glanced up. 

"I'd like you to take over. As interim director of the program." 

Delphine was speechless for a moment, "Me?" 

Rachel nodded, "The chair is vacant. You understand the human side _and_ the science." 

Delphine could only gape in wonder — her dæmon jumped back up onto her lap and pressed himself against her, delightedly nuzzling her neck, his bushy tail curling around her wrist as she embraced him. 

"You'd be..." Rachel forced the words out, "...a wonderful ambassador." 

The fox-dæmon put his nose to Delphine's ear and spoke softly, then turned to glance up at Rachel, his liquid gaze gleaming, holding her in place with those dark, intelligent eyes. His woman shifted in her seat, directing her words at Rachel as she set him aside gently, "And you need to sway Sarah." 

"It's not a bribe," Rachel said lowly, "Or a ploy," she added as Delphine glanced up. 

"You're uniquely qualified," Rachel walked back to the couch and sat beside Delphine, "We could take this program in an entirely new direction." 

Delphine watched her searchingly, her eyes familiar and open, wanting to believe her. 

Mastering her emotions was not something Rachel was unfamiliar with, but remaining an appropriate distance from Delphine was physically difficult; the urge to lean in and taste the other woman, breathe her weakness and scent the love for her subject that came off of her in waves. 

Neither of the two women noticed their dæmons interacting, both licking and mouthing at each other's faces, the fox being pushed onto his back by the mountain lion, not to dominate, but not in an innocently playful manner either — the fierce cat laid down beside him and buried her nose in the fur of his belly, exhaling. 

Rachel leaned in, but painfully slowly, halting every few inches, as if she was uncertain, nervous, afraid. Delphine's teeth were pillowed by her lower lip as she leaned into Rachel, kissing her deeply, piercingly, her mouth achingly soft. Rachel couldn't resist the urge to suck on Delphine's beautiful lips, one at a time, committing their taste to memory. Delphine gasped at the sensation, clinging to her desperately. 

Rachel pulled away all at once, breathing hard, her body temperature soaring in her arousal, the separation felt as if her perspiring skin was tearing from Delphine's. 

"Thank you," she panted shallowly, meaning it in more ways than one. 

* * *

_“Maybe none of this is about control. Maybe it isn't really about who can own whom, who can do what to whom and get away with it, even as far as death. Maybe it isn't about who can sit and who has to kneel or stand or lie down, legs spread open. Maybe it's about who can do what to whom and be forgiven for it. Never tell me it amounts to the same thing.”_

― Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale

* * *

"Miss Duncan?" there was a soft call from the door; Kallista rose from the cool floor and chirped interestedly; Rachel glanced up from her computer screen to see a young woman in her early twenties enter the office, her lynx dæmon slipping into the room from between the girl's moving feet to stand beside her stoically, eyes half-closed.

"Yes? Who are you?" Rachel demanded. 

"We spoke on the phone. Several times. I'm Josephine, you told Martin you needed a female member of staff," the young woman tucked a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear and kept her hands by her sides, waiting patiently. 

Rachel glanced at Kallista; the mountain lion nodded once. 

"I'll be needing these items as soon as possible," Rachel slid a piece of paper across the glass surface of her desk, "I trust you'll have no problem procuring them." 

Josephine started forward to pick it up, only to be met halfway by Kallista, who had circled around the desk and blocked her way. 

The mountain lion approached and touched noses with the girl's lynx-dæmon; the latter's eyes closed briefly, a tufted ear flicked. 

Kallista wordlessly moved back to Rachel's side as Josephine picked up the piece of paper; a list of sorts, for- 

"....black leather goods?" 

"Yes." Rachel's tone was firm, as if to remind her that it wasn't her place to question, "See that you bring them to me directly from the store. You'll find the address on there and my sizes are already marked down," Rachel nodded toward the list in the girl's hand, "I'll ensure that the company's accounts are at your disposal." 

"Of course, Miss Duncan." Josephine nodded and left through the open door, standing at the desk beyond to speak with Martin. Rachel watched her curiously. 

* * *

Rachel had left her office to freshen her lipstick after her meeting with Delphine that morning. When she returned, Martin rose from his desk.

"Miss Duncan, Marion Bowles to see you," Martin inclined his head in the direction of her office, where Rachel could see a slim figure in black. 

Rachel steeled herself and walked into her office, casting a suspicious glance over at the pale eagle-dæmon perched on the back of one of the chairs set in front of her desk, and she lent a confident almost-swagger to her stride, "Marion!" 

The sleek head turned, "Oh!" a mouthful of blindingly white teeth flashed in a false smile, "You caught me reminiscing." 

Rachel greeted her with the appropriate courtesy — a feather-light touch on her arm and a kiss to each cheek. Not an actual kiss, Rachel almost shuddered at the thought of it. Marion was charming, delightful and aloof, but it was impossible to know what she wanted, which is why Rachel didn't trust a single one of those disarming smiles of hers. Her and that fierce-eyed dæmon of hers, whom Kallista was keeping in her sight every moment. 

Marion turned back to the tables and the experiments they held, "Aldous certainly filled this room," she remarked fondly. 

_This room and all the female interns he entertained within it._ Rachel fought a smirk. 

"Yes," she agreed, straight-faced, "He had a way." 

She cast a glance over to Marion's dæmon on the chair, preening his tawny brown wings, but he stopped when he felt her gaze and raised his beautiful head to glare at her intently. 

"A heart attack on one of our jets..." Marion mused, catching her staring. 

Rachel met her gaze steadily, "I'm bereft," she managed. 

It was like a private joke, only no one was laughing. 

Marion tilted her head to the side, studying Rachel, "Doctor Cormier is an interesting choice for the chair." She chose her words carefully and directed them perfectly — to rattle her. 

Rachel fought the defensive remark that was on the tip of her tongue. Marion didn't know anything about what had happened between her and Delphine. And even if she had, Rachel couldn't care less. She'd never given a thought to possible surveillance, though — it wouldn't be hard for Topside to get ahold of CCTV footage, from both Dyad and her apartment building and put two and two together. They might disagree with her way of handling things. 

Rachel kept her face expressionless, "She's telegenic. She has scope." 

Marion scoffed, "And an intimate relationship with her subject, always handy." 

_Not only her own subject,_ Rachel wanted to retort. 

Marion turned away and seemed to think for a moment, "How are you, Rachel?" she looked back to her, "Besides bereft. You've learned a lot about yourself lately." 

Kallista stalked over to Marion's dæmon, who perched on the chair right in front of her, golden eyes intensely studying the bird of prey. 

Glancing at the two of them, Rachel looked back to her superior and addressed Marion's subtle interrogation head-on, "Tell Topside that Rachel is fine. I know what our goals are. And I've only _just_ taken charge." 

Kallista made a calculated swipe at the eagle-dæmon's face, not close enough to cause offense or start a fight, but near enough to remind Marion who had removed the liabilities from Dyad and kept the clone experiment from going under. 

Marion gave a wide, unpleasant Cheshire-Cat grin, "I'm glad to hear it," she turned away abruptly, "But this isn't a personal call. Sarah Manning..." 

She looked back as Rachel's eyes flicked over to her; the clone shifted her body so she was facing away. 

"...intrigues me. Doesn't she you?" 

Rachel swallowed down the hatred that was rising up her throat like bile and folded her hands in front of herself, "Biologically, yes." 

Marion turned her back on Rachel, remarking, "But it's not just her biology that's gotten her this far, is it? You were bred into this. Given every advantage. But Sarah... Sarah is a product of chance." 

Rachel's eyes had glazed over — she was picturing how easy it would be to step behind Marion and force a sharp implement into the flesh between her ribs. Or cave her skull in with a heavy object. 

Kallista growled once, briefly, to remind Rachel who she was there with. 

"...yet here we are, at loggerheads with her." 

Rachel bared her teeth, sneering, "She's in hand. I assure you." 

"I hope she is," Marion turned back to her, "Because I don't wish to hear of another failure." 

Her smile was still there, but an edge had crept into her usually pleasant tone — she was delivering an order. 

Rachel kept her face smooth, although inwardly she was furious at the woman's gall, "I'm beginning to doubt your faith in me, Marion," she replied. 

"Not at all, Rachel," Marion chuckled, "I have every confidence that you will do well." 

The eagle-dæmon let out a _'klee ee!'_ as Marion suddenly left the room and took off from the back of the chair he balanced on, soaring through the open doorway and onto her shoulder as she walked out of sight. 

"She shouldn't be threatening us," Rachel seethed, "What right does she have? I have done what I've had to to keep this experiment above water-" 

"I know," Kallista murmured soothingly, shaking her head, "She's not important. Let's focus on the task at hand." 

Rachel reached down to her dæmon and stroked her head silently in agreement. 

* * *

_“We still think of a powerful man as a born leader and a powerful woman as an anomaly.”_

― Margaret Atwood

* * *

At her desk, Rachel heard soft footsteps approach her office and glanced up — Josephine raised a hand and knocked softly on the glass door though it was open — she carried a large, flat black box under her arm.

"Enter," Rachel called, watching as the girl transferred the garment box to both hands and held it in front of her, "I have the items you requested, Miss Duncan," her voice was mild-mannered, her accent precise and rich in tone, "Would you like it here or sent to your apartment?" 

"Oh, just on the table, please." Rachel smiled, "I'd like to thank you for what you did, picking these up. It goes rather beyond the call of duty." 

The younger woman's cheeks went from pale to pink at that comment as she placed the box on the glass coffee table, "It's no problem," she murmured, not meeting Rachel's eyes, "It's my job, I'm glad I could help." 

Rachel suddenly smirked, "You didn't call me 'Miss Duncan'." 

"I apologise-" she began, straightening up. 

"Don't, I don't mind. You may call me Rachel," she allowed, and gestured towards the cougar butting her head against the lynx who was purring deeply, "This is Kallista." 

The young woman looked up to meet Rachel's eyes with her own – they were a pleasant green – and smiled briefly before directing her next words to Kallista, "Pleased to meet you," she said, inclining her head respectfully. Kallista acknowledged her with a short growl and resumed her playful exchange with Josephine's silent lynx-dæmon. 

Rachel watched them momentarily, never knowing Kallista to be friendly or at ease with any unfamiliar dæmon before. 

A sudden awareness rose within her — she was becoming too familiar. She called Kallista to her side with one look and turned to her computer, "Thank you for your assistance, Josephine. You may see yourself out. Martin will deal with your payment." 

Josephine only nodded and turned to leave. 

But Rachel called after her, "Wait," making her halt in her movements, "There is something else you can do for me." 

The girl looked back, her eyebrows drawing together for an instant, then her face became smooth, distant, "Of course," she hesitated before continuing, "Rachel." She stood by the door, her dæmon pausing beside her, the lynx's liquid eyes penetrating Rachel's. 

"How good are you with computers?" 

* * *

Rachel approached the black garment box that was placed on the coffee table and lifted the lid. Tissue paper framed a black leather jacket that was folded carefully, worn and stressed and shining, it was well designed. Rachel could smell how clean it was.

Kallista paced by her side, restless in her desire to complete their task. She panted, her tongue extending over her teeth and retreating — she was as excited as Rachel was. 

But they mustn't rush things. She still had things to do before nightfall. She couldn't fail. It was her only chance. 

She lifted it out of the box- 

...and draped it over the chair in the viewing room — the steel was cold against the backs of her thighs even through her skirt as she sat, feeling the soft leather cushion her back against the hard metal. 

She picked up the martini she had asked Martin to set out for her and took up the remote, pressing 'Play'. 

As Rachel stared passively at the screen, it felt as if she were watching someone else's childhood play out in front of her eyes. She remembered none of this. 

She remembered Leekie's hand on her shoulder, the tightness of her braids pulling at her scalp constantly and not being permitted to cuddle Kallista in company. She remembered oppression, reprimands and nightmares in a small, pink room. 

The laughter was bitter in her mouth. The martini was dry as she gulped it down, and the gin licked her throat as she swallowed, the tint of vermouth lingering on her tongue. 

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." 

The slap of her hand against her cheek went unnoticed by the tingling flesh; she hadn't eaten and the alcohol affected her almost immediately, warming her limbs and making her fingers feel less evenly spaced. 

She reached for her phone and Kallista gently bit her hand as she grasped it, swiped the screen and dialed the number she only called twice a year. 

"Doctor Nealon." 

_"Speaking."_

"Yes, it's Rachel Duncan." 

_"Miss Duncan, how are you?"_

Rachel forced herself to exhale, "I'm fine," she lied. 

_"I was shocked to hear of the loss of Aldous,"_ he drawled, _"To have a heart attack at his present state of hea-"_

"Yes, it's a terrible loss," she interjected, so tired of hearing that/so tired of saying that, but she closed her eyes to smother the rage, "But it's not why I'm calling. I need your expertise." 

She could still hear the little girl's laughter, though she'd disappeared from the screen. 

* * *

_“The whole difference between construction and creation is exactly this: that a thing constructed can only be loved after it is constructed; but a thing created is loved before it exists.”_

― Charles Dickens

* * *

Rachel had just opened up her inbox on her laptop when Delphine entered, carrying a file case, and looking very tired.

Rachel smiled genuinely, "You've done it." 

"Well, not yet." Delphine admitted, "But we have the marrow processing for transplant." 

"Then..." Rachel smiled knowingly, "Thank you for letting me use your office." 

"Oh. Well..." Delphine sighed, clearly unused to the idea of having an office at all. 

Rachel deliberately brushed past her, wanting to touch her for the last time, knowing she was going to miss her soft, perky breasts with their velvety pink nipples, shining vermilion from her mouth, the sweetness between her legs and those breathless little gasps and sighs she gave in bed. 

She shook off these thoughts as she bent down by the coffee table to reach her briefcase — her phone rang, and Josephine's name up on the screen. 

Rachel answered the call and left the room, "Martin, yes," which was the confirmation signal; she had ordered Josephine to send the falsified Dyad records of one of Sarah's foster mother's closest accomplices, Benjamin Kertland, from a fake account to her own email address, which was still displayed on the screen of her laptop. 

"Sorry.....? Good." Rachel heard her laptop ping and couldn't help the satisfied smile that crept across her face, "What time?" 

Josephine was speaking to her on the other end, telling her that she had activated the built-in webcam on the laptop and could see Delphine reading what was up on the screen. Rachel gave it a few moments, supposing that it would be enough for Delphine to have seen and memorised the false email. 

"Thank you. Bye." Rachel turned back to see Delphine looking like a woodland animal caught in headlights. 

Kallista had to swallow a self-satisfied purr. They were so close. 

* * *

They waited until Sarah had walked out of the front doors of the hospital and took the fire escape stairs up to the floor Kira's room was on — a silent alarm must have been set off, but Rachel didn't care; they'd be gone before they were apprehended. She couldn't risk Sarah's people seeing Kallista, hence the fire escape.

Rachel strode into the hospital room, Kallista keeping out of sight in the hallway so as not to alert Sarah's foster brother to their identity — he was asleep with his waxwing-dæmon on his shoulder. 

But as she entered, Felix stirred sleepily on the window ledge; his dæmon's wings stretched and flexed as they woke, "Oi," he murmured, seeing Rachel pull back the sheets from Kira's sleeping form, "Hey, hey, hey, what's going on?" 

"We're not safe here." Rachel murmured in Sarah's assaulting voice, and began to lift Kira from the bed — the girl hardly gave a groan, she was so deeply asleep. 

"Why are you talking about, eh?" Felix mumbled, "Where are you gonna take her? 

Felix's phone began to ring. 

"I don't know yet," Rachel said, "I'll let you know." 

There was a tense silence — Rachel heard the warning trill of his dæmon and moved — rounding on Felix and plunging the syringe she had kept concealed into a pulsing vein in his neck in one swift motion. 

The horrified expression on his face was almost comical. 

"Pleasure to meet you, Felix," she said in her _(real)_ silken _(fake)_ voice, lowering him to the floor so the thud of his falling wouldn't attract attention. He faded into unconsciousness quickly, lips moving inaudibly, eyes rolling back in his head. 

Her eyes glazed over, her lips parted, and her breathing came hard for a moment as she fought the overload of sensations her body was experiencing. 

Her vision took a violent tilt. 

She pressed a hand to her side — the moment passed, and she regained her composure. 

She turned back to the bed and gathered the little girl into her arms — slightly surprised at her weight — and stepped over Felix's motionless form on the floor, Kallista padding steadily beside her, Kira's sleeping dæmon in her mouth, currently in the shape of a dormouse. 

Kira lolled like a toy in her arms, cradled like a treasure against her chest. 

Rachel had sweetened her voice and softened her face; she had fooled Delphine into distracting Sarah and drawing her away, leaving Kira unprotected. She had cheapened her accent and painted her features to fool Sarah's people. And then she took her daughter. Not _Sarah's_ daughter. _Her_ daughter. 

Rachel knew without asking that the cougar that strode purposefully before her, with the little girl's dæmon carried tenderly in her mouth, that Kallista felt the same vindictive triumph as she did. 

* * *

_“Together, they would watch everything that was so carefully planned collapse, and they would smile at the beauty of destruction.”_

― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

* * *

Rachel sat stolidly in the pink-and-white chair; the soft yellow glow of the child-sized room was just as comforting as it had been for all the years she spent there — which is to say, not at all.

Kallista paced the room restlessly, a deep, uneasy growl ripping through her chest; she knew that they were able to leave the room, but her anxiety was deep-set and permanent. She would never stand to be in there unless forced, and Rachel had practically done just that, telling her dæmon she could either wait with her until Kira woke or she could sit outside the door like a pet. 

It wasn't hard for Kallista to decide. Out of a choice between humiliation and fear, she'd choose fear. 

The small form in the bed stirred, her mouse-dæmon nestled in the crook of her neck. 

"Mommy?" she called out in a hoarse whisper, rolling over. 

"Hello," was the soft answer, "My name is Rachel." 

The little girl's dormouse-dæmon sprang from where he lay curled up with Kira onto the pillow beside her head, and became a snarling fennec fox. 

Rachel ignored him, "How are you feeling, Kira?" 

"Where's my mom?" she asked plaintively, "Where's Mrs S?" 

"Dear child," Rachel murmured, Kallista pacing around the bed, her tail flicking back and forth in agitation, "I know how frightening this must be for you." 

Kira's dæmon had large, erect ears, and dark, intelligent eyes. He darted to Kira's breast as she shrank away, both girl and fox gazing fiercely, watchfully at Rachel. 

Rachel wanted a child. She knew it in every bone, felt it in every sinew. The very cells of her womb cried out for it and the atoms that made up her soul sympathised with a deep, rumbling half-purr-half-growl through her dæmon's body. 

Kira's dæmon curled up in the crook between her chin and her chest — remaining between his girl and the woman that looked so _(not)_ like her Mommy — and bared his sharp white teeth. 

Kallista's head snapped towards the bed — she bared her own teeth in retaliation and snarled; but the child's dæmon didn't flinch. Kira gathered him up into her arms and hushed him softly, small hands soothing the fierce creature. 

Rachel watched, but didn't react. Her expression remained sympathetic, but she felt only indifference. 

Kira clearly wasn't comfortable with this arrangement — her face gave away nothing — but her dæmon either wasn't as skilled as other, older dæmons at hiding both their emotions or he was too distressed to do so, uttering muted, comforting words to his girl, undoubtedly assuring her that her mother and Siobhan Sadler would find them soon. Rachel let him soothe her. 

"But you'll get used to it." Rachel sat beside her on the bed, "You may even grow to like it here..." despite her calm exterior, Rachel's fingers closed around a handful of Kallista's fur to ground her from the panic of being back in the small pink room again. 

"...just as I did." 

Kira said nothing, and only watched Rachel silently, clutching her dæmon to her chest protectively. 

"I'll say goodnight now," Rachel stood, smoothing down her skirt, "Sweet dreams, darling." 

Rachel made her way to the door with Kallista close behind her, "And who knows," she added when she reached for the handle, "Your mother might even come and visit you soon." 

"Really?" Kira asked softly. 

"Oh, yes. She might even stay awhile." 

Rachel slipped out of the room and shut the door behind her. 

* * *

_“Please, trust me, I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.”_

― ‘The Book Thief’ by Markus Zusak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in a universe where dæmons exist, it would be very near impossible to impersonate someone because your dæmon obvs would most likely not be the same as theirs, thus clearly being a major red flag. 
> 
> still, I try to work around unfortunate clashes like these. It makes the writing challenging :)
> 
> leave a comment if you enjoy this fic. or, y'know, just leave me in the dark because that's fun too.
> 
> come see me at my fanfic blog and send me prompts and shite - sarahshelena.tumblr.com


	9. war tactics (wounded)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set in s2ep10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DÆMON FORMS**
> 
> in this chapter Kira's dæmon takes the form of the common (or small spotted) genet, a mammal native to Africa
> 
> http://www.naturephoto-cz.com/fullsize/others/small-spotted-genet-46443.jpg
> 
> http://www.aaaquizmaster.com/AnimalPictures/genet1.jpg
> 
> https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4033/5162868128_1e6e44280e_b.jpg
> 
> * * *
> 
> Ferdinand's dæmon is a black headed centipede (scolopendra morsitans) shown [here](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com/tagged/centipede)
> 
> **WARNING:**
> 
> for those who have phobias triggered by such insects/invertebrates, don't click on the link, but you should be able to read without danger of triggers, there are no detailed descriptions in the chapter.

"Rachel." Delphine breathed by way of greeting as she stood by the elevator, two security guards behind her. One guard's dæmon was a mongrel, the other's an American bulldog.

"Thank you for meeting me, Doctor Cormier," Rachel said solemnly, "Would you ride up with me?"

"Of course," Delphine smiled uncertainly. She waited for Rachel to enter the elevator and followed her in.

Cheiron nuzzled concernedly at Kallista, who ignored him.

Rachel handed the file to Delphine and stepped back, her arms crossed and her back rigid, there being no need to keep up the charade of friendly compliance. The constant coddling and reaffirmation that she'd had to give Delphine that she was special was unbearable. Cosima had undoubtedly played to Delphine's insecurities.

Rachel enjoyed Delphine physically. But she couldn't bear the doe-eyed scientist in any other setting and made this clear from the first time they had met — Delphine clearly had a selective memory.

Delphine scrabbled at the folder to retrieve the transfer order; and as she read it, stared at it as if it were a death sentence. Cheiron stood up on his hind legs to nose at her hip, wanting to be picked up and kept close to her.

"Effective immediately, you will no longer be working with clones," Rachel kept her face blank and her tone flat — she had no further use for Delphine, and she wouldn't keep useless things about her.

 _"Frankfurt?"_ Delphine gasped, lifting her face up, breathing hard, "And if I refuse?" she asked, turning to Rachel.

"You'll be on the plane." Rachel said through her teeth, fast becoming irritated with the display. Kallista's lips pulled back over her own teeth in a sneer of disapproval.

Delphine shook her head, "You have _everything_ you wanted-"

"Everything _Dyad_ wanted," Rachel corrected her acidly.

Kallista had her eyes half-closed in resigned determination, paying no mind to Cheiron's distressed noises and his mouthing at her neck.

"You seduced me and you used me!" Delphine sobbed out the accusations, so utterly miserable, she didn't seem to know what to say next, "Please," she begged as Rachel sighed impatiently, "Don't do this. I will do anything you want me to."

Rachel ignored this and shook her head, "You are of no further use to me. Sarah's procedure is imminent..."

Kallista had finally tired of Cheiron's fretting over her and snarled warningly, the sound like deep thunder in her chest.

Rachel turned her head ever so slightly to glance over to Delphine, "You forget, Doctor Cormier, none of this is personal."

Rachel stepped out of the lift as the doors slid open, perfectly content to end their involvement there.

"I love you," Delphine called after her determinedly, "And if you send me away like this, it is personal."

At this, Rachel stilled for a moment — the words hung in the air between Delphine's heaving chest and Rachel's turned back. But Rachel continued on towards her old, and now, Kira's new, room.

Kallista heard Cheiron's small, shrill bark, but she kept pace with the clicking of Rachel's heels against the tiles.

"Rachel." Kallista reprimanded her.

"Delphine grows attached too easily," came the abrupt reply, "You know how quickly she devoted herself to Cosima. And see where she's transferred her affections to now."

The derision dripped from her words like Delphine had from her fingers the night before.

"Delphine is undoubtedly beautiful and desirable, and it would've been nice to keep her, but she has served her purpose," Rachel reminded her dæmon, "It's time we turned our attention to the task at hand."

Kallista inclined her head in agreement.

They walked together side by side, woman and dæmon, clone and cougar.

Together they both shook out Delphine and Cheiron from their skin, fur and flesh; they removed themselves from the temptation — they discarded what they no longer valued.

* * *

_“And yet it disturbs me to learn I have hurt someone unintentionally. I want all my hurts to be intentional.”_

― Margaret Atwood, Cat's Eye

* * *

Kallista balked at the white door; she set her ears back and bared her teeth.

"This again?" Rachel sighed in annoyance, looking down at her dæmon, "How many times do I have to say it? We can leave at any time," her jaw set, a perfect close-lipped smile on her face, she turned and reached for the door handle.

"Easy for _you_ to say," Kallista snarled as Rachel entered the room, _"You_ have _hands."_

"Hello, sweetheart," Rachel closed the door after Kallista followed her in uneasily, "Are you comfortable?"

Kira, who was having a tea party with a pink stuffed toy, turned to look at the round mirror hanging on the wall over the dresser, her dæmon curled closely around her throat as an almost feline-looking creature with spotted grey fur, a striped tail and a pointed face - a genet.

"Is my mom here yet?" she asked, looking back to Rachel.

Rachel sighed, "Soon, I hope," feeling Kallista pacing the room behind her — she smoothed her hand across Kira's right shoulder and along her back, keeping a respectable distance between her hand and the dæmon on Kira's left shoulder.

She sat on the bed, "The last time I saw your mother, she laid hands on me," Rachel told her, "Do you know what that means?"

"No," Kira shook her head.

"It means she wasn't very nice to me." Rachel informed her, "And then she kept running away, just as she ran from you so many times. Did that make you sad?"

The genet on Kira's shoulder whispered into her ear, then retreated, hiding himself in her hair and bared his teeth at Rachel.

"Yeah," Kira nodded slowly, "But she says she's all grown up now."

Rachel laughed softly, reaching out to touch the girl's face, her fingers tapping gently on Kira's chin, "I hope she is."

Despite Rachel's honeyed words and calm exterior, Kallista was so agitated she was growling at everything, staying as closely to the door as she could while she paced in front of it.

Rachel stood, making her way over to the dresser, "Even mothers have to do as they're told sometimes..." she directed her words at the mirror, "Don't they?"

Rachel was almost aroused knowing Kira's mother was on the other side of the glass, feeling the intense hatred she had for Sarah Manning at such close range was strong enough to affect her sexually.

She ran a finger over the dresser thoughtfully, then turned back to Kira who sat politely in the chair by the bed.

"Now, come and give me a kiss," Rachel told her, and directed her satisfied smirk at the mirror as Kira quickly touched her lips to Rachel's cheek, her dæmon – displeased with the all-but-forced contact – was hiding in her hair, his thickly furred tail reached from the nape of her neck and ended at her waist.

Rachel stroked the girl's face and left the room, followed closely by Kallista, who slipped through the door as fast as she could, revulsion sparking from every hair on her body, not voicing what they both knew — that she wasn't stepping foot back in there for anything.

Rachel silently acknowledged this, but gave a voice to her reasons, "It was worth it, to give Sarah incentive to cooperate."

Kallista shuddered.

* * *

_“So, throughout life, our worst weaknesses and meannesses are usually committed for the sake of the people whom we most despise.”_

― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

* * *

"Miss Duncan?" Josephine's voice floated through the open door.

"I asked you not to call me that," Rachel looked up from her phone, a smile hiding in the curve of her lips, "Please, come in."

The young woman entered the office, her dark hair flowing loose around her shoulders – her lynx-dæmon following, and sat staunch and silent beside her, eyes closed.

"I'll need you to set up the viewing room for use within an hour," Rachel instructed, "Martin has the tapes to give you."

"I'll speak to him," Josephine nodded.

"Thank you," Rachel stroked Kallista's head, "And I would appreciate it if you'd bring some tea to the viewing room in an hour. Two cups."

"Of course, Rachel." Josephine bowed her head respectfully and left the office. Her dæmon paused, unfathomable eyes glancing over to Kallista almost longingly before turning to follow the girl.

Rachel's phone vibrated with a text; the screen showed Ferdinand's name.

She restrained a groan and pressed her thumb to the sensor, unlocking the phone and tapping the message app to read the text:

**Will I be seeing you soon?**

Rachel didn't even have to think before composing a reply.

**Of course. Until then, I look forward to confirmation of the next Helsinki. I expect preparation to be underway by our next correspondence, and not after.**

She tapped 'Send' and took a moment to exhale after the bother of transferring Delphine to Germany, and now dealing with Ferdinand.

Kallista sympathised; she loathed Ferdinand and despised his giant centipede-dæmon — hoping she'd never again have to feel it writhing and squirming under her paws while Rachel took care of Ferdinand. Keeping his loyalty consisted mostly of stinging slaps and oxygen-restrictive sexual practices.

He often attempted to touch her, much to her disgust — the first time he'd tried, a hand thrust up her skirt — she responded by digging her thumbs into his eye sockets (she was more like Helena than she knew) relishing his agonised screams.

He noticeably paid her more respect following that lesson.

Rachel reached over to smooth her palm across Kallista's brow, "Don't worry," she murmured, feeling warm fur under her fingers, "We'll see Duncan soon, and then we'll have the key."

Kallista silently agreed, nosing against Rachel's hand, whuffling contentedly against her palm.

* * *

A security guard turned up at the viewing room, holding Ethan Duncan roughly by the arm. The elderly scientist held his frog-dæmon securely in his frail hands.

Rachel greeted him at the door, "Professor Duncan," she smiled, "I was hoping you could join me for a cup of tea."

"Thank you, my dear," Duncan was released by the guard and ushered by the attendant into the room, the door shut behind him.

Rachel looked back at the security guard who had escorted him there, and smiled beatifically, hyper-aware of the glass walls, "You had no right to disrespect him in such a manner. If you ever treat my guests like this again, you will not only be in need of different employment, you'll be in need of medical assistance."

The man stammered under the full weight of her murderous gaze, his mutt dog-dæmon tucking her tail between her legs and retreating as Kallista slashed at her face with razor-sharp claws.

"Don't make it necessary for me to have to speak to you again," Rachel finished just as Josephine approached her, carrying the tea tray.

"Where would you like it, Miss Duncan?"

Her lynx-dæmon sniffed delicately at Kallista, who flicked an ear, but allowed it.

"Thank you, Josephine, I'll take it," Rachel told him, lifting it out of her hands, "And thank you for taking care of the room. I'll call if I need you."

She waited for the attendant to open the door and entered, finding Professor Duncan had begun watching the tapes already, his frog-dæmon set on his knee.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Rachel bent to set the tray down on the low table next to the chair he sat in, "I've brought tea."

"Just hot water for me," he replied as she straightened up, patting his chest pocket, "I brought my own bag," he informed her, fishing out a cigarette case.

Rachel came around the table to pour the hot water, "Do you remember this day?" she asked him hopefully.

"As often as possible," he told her with a wry smile.

"It's a day I would have never seen, had it not been for your synthetic sequences," Rachel turned and walked to the screen, the blurry pixels of her brief childhood playing out before her eyes.

Duncan said nothing, but took up his cup as she poured her own.

"And yet," she continued, the tension she felt leaking into her voice, "Martin tells me you've encoded them with a non-repeating substitution cipher. Why would you deny existence to more of us? We're your life's work."

There was an instant of uncertain silence before he spoke.

"I've given you the sequence to help Cosima. Cure her, and we'll talk about unlocking another."

Rachel turned back to him slowly, "Unlock another," she ordered, "And we'll _talk_ about curing Cosima."

"Well," Professor Duncan said off-handedly, "Since none of us seem to know what you're actually for, I think your attempts to make new clones should meet with failure."

Rachel now spoke softly, dangerously, "I want the key to your cipher."

"I've had twenty years to work on it," Duncan smirked, "It's rather good," he took a gulp of his tea.

"Where is it?" she hissed, feeling Kallista tense with excitement beside her, "Is it with Sarah's people?" she demanded.

"My dear, I didn't write it down. You know, I can recite Pi to 6,000 places," he drained his cup as Rachel rolled her eyes and turned back to the screen, breathing deeply, every inch of her itching for the cipher key.

"Do you recall, Rachel, not the memory, but the feeling of... how _much_ we loved you?"

Rachel stood for a moment, watching the father read to his little daughter, the empty memories playing out in front of her, haunting in their domestic simplicity. She chose her words carefully, shaping and moulding them, mocking him as they left her lips.

"The reason I watch these tapes _so_ often is because-"

The horrible _splat_ to the floor and the pained cry of his dæmon that followed was what made her turn.

"...I don't remember at all..." only to see him falter and sway as she stumbled forward to catch him, the cougar crouching beside the gasping frog as she swelled in her distress, puffing up immensely before deflating weakly.

"What have- what have you done?" Rachel fumbled for his cigarette case, "What have you done?"

The sight of the white pills trapped inside the tea bag made her mouth go dry.

"My poor, poor Rachel," he groaned.

 _"No!"_ She hit him, striking out in a weak, desperate attempt to bring him back.

"My poor, poor Rachel-" he flinched as she struck him again but kept on babbling. He'd called her 'dear, dear Rachel' when he'd seen her a few days ago. She despised the pathetic title he gave to her now.

_"Why? No!"_

"It- won't- take- long-" he gulped, faltering at every word.

Rachel took his face between her hands, forcing him to stay, "No, no, no. No, no. You can't leave me again," she slapped every inch of him she could reach, "You can't _leave_ me again! No–!" Her voice trailed into a wordless cry that she couldn't control.

Kallista took his dæmon into her mouth, making it screech and violently shaking the frog until its head lolled sickeningly, its limbs limp and rubbery.

"I'm afraid you don't— deserve me... anymore," he whispered, trembling uncontrollably, and she clung to him fiercely in her rage and helplessness.

How she hated him. How she loathed his pity and scorned his cowardice. How she abhorred his weakness.

Kallista screamed into the face of his dæmon, her feral cry echoing off the glass and tiles as the frog-dæmon trembled weakly and collapsed into a swirl of golden Dust; Rachel clutched her father's failing body as he slumped in her arms, choking out his last breath.

_"Josephine!"_

* * *

_“You must know that I have no heart—if that has anything to do with my memory. Oh! I have a heart to be stabbed in or shot in, I have no doubt, and, of course, if it ceased to beat I should cease to be. But you know what I mean. I have no softness there, no—sympathy—sentiment—nonsense… I am serious. I have not bestowed my tenderness anywhere. I have never had any such thing.”_

— Estella, Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

* * *

_rachel made her way back to her office, raw and shaking with suppressed emotion_

_she was acutely aware of the flesh of her shoulder where josephine had touched her — gently through her dress, but still touched her — touched her shoulder and led her away as the father she had barely known and hated in the last days of his life was concealed in a black body bag and wheeled away_

_rachel had walked away from the scene as if she was drugged, not speaking to anyone. once she stood in the vast, cold, empty office, rachel could feel the tearing pain deep in her gut and tears stung her eyes_

_the rage reared its sleek, terrible head_

_rachel's vision began to shake as her body trembled violently with unexpressed emotion_

_her hands found the back of a chair and lifted it easily, then brought it down with frightening strength through the glass desk, shattering it_

_broken glass filled her shoes_

_broken glass filled her body and spilled out from_

_her eyes_

_her nose_

_her mouth, opening up cuts and gashes in her lips and slicing trails down her cheeks as she cried pain_

_she'd never been told that pain, or any emotion, was normal_

_she'd grown up believing (knowing, rather) that it existed purely to hurt only her._

* * *

Sitting in her office, eyes brimming with tears, Rachel's phone vibrated with an incoming call: Nealon's name came up on the screen. Kallista chirped and rose from her place beside Rachel on the leather couch.

Rachel answered it, "Yes."

_"Miss Manning is ready."_

"Thank you," Rachel held her eyes open until the tears were reabsorbed, "I'll be there in a moment."

She hung up.

She breathed.

She was so close.

Kallista looked at her, "Is it time?"

Rachel blinked the last of the almost-tears away, swallowed the fury and smiled, "Yes."

* * *

_“I am what you have made me. Take all the praise, take all the blame; take all the success, take all the failure; in short, take me.”_

—Estella, Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

* * *

Rachel took a breath, smoothed the sterile gown and entered the operating theatre, "Doctor Nealon," she addressed the surgeon.

 _"Shit."_ Sarah whispered. The wolf-dæmon beside her whimpered through her muzzle, pulling at the plastic ties that bound her.

"Miss Duncan," Nealon turned to greet her.

"I'd like a second to speak to my sister, please," Rachel's tone left no room for interpretation, as did Kallista's short growl.

"Two minutes," Nealon announced, "Everybody stay prepped." He followed the operating staff as they left immediately, filing out of the theatre.

Rachel approached the operating table, offering Sarah the piece of paper she held, "Kira gave me something for you."

Sarah only shook her head in utter disbelief, "You psycho," she breathed.

Rachel ignored her and placed Kira's drawing on the table beside the gurney, drawing out something else from her pocket, "She also gave her bone marrow to cure Cosima," she paced away from the operating table, the tubes of rich marrow clacking softly in her hands.

Kallista approached the wolf warily, delighting in the compromising position the dæmon was in. A fierce growl ripping from the bound wolf's throat had no effect; Kallista gave a low chuckle.

Rachel finally spoke, "Duncan is dead."

"What?" Sarah's voice was laced with shock.

"He took his own life," Rachel kept her tone professional, though her voice trembled slightly, "But I know he gave you the key to the synthetic sequences, didn't he?"

"What key?"

Rachel turned, "To his _cipher_. He wrote them down for you."

"I don't know what you're taking about," Sarah shook her head.

 _"Liar."_ Kallista hissed. Sarah jumped and stared at the cougar for an instant, then looked back at Rachel, who was holding the three tubes with their precious, life-giving stem cells precariously over the concrete floor.

Sarah shook her head again, "Rachel, I don't know," she stressed.

"'No?'" Rachel mocked, trembling with rage — then, vindictive fury surging within her, she smashed the tubes on the floor, stomping on them until she felt the glass splinter under her heels and thick, rich blood fleck her skin.

She made her way over to Sarah, slipping on the contaminated, destroyed biological material as she stepped on the blood-smeared floor. Her eyes were bulging out of her head; she looked quite demented.

"Enjoy your oopherectomy," she spat, walking to the door. Kallista following her, rumbling disappointedly under her breath, "We will continue this when you're _done_."

She'd just reached the door when Sarah called, "Rachel!" making them both stop and turn, "I'll tell you."

"Good. Where is it?" Rachel demanded. When Sarah hesitated, she moved closer, "Where has he written it?"

Sarah reached out suddenly, "Right here."

* * *

_rachel felt a gust of air blow her hair back_

_it felt as if she'd been hit violently in the face_

_it felt as if the entire left side of her face was numb_

_until it wasn't._

_she felt kallista beside her, and heard her screaming, clearly in just as much pain_

_her dæmon clung to her fiercely, sinking her claws in as deeply as she could, screaming and snarling viciously at anyone who tried to come near_

_rachel writhed on the floor, pain tearing up her throat_

_there was a ringing in her ears_

_she was screaming, too._

* * *

_“But who can remember pain, once it’s over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.”_

― Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments give me life :3
> 
> come see me at my fanfic blog and send me prompts and shite - sarahshelena.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> any and all feedback is appreciated. kudos are lovely but a comment really makes my day and helps me write. 
> 
> thank you for reading 
> 
> come see me at my [fanfic blog](https://sarahshelena.tumblr.com) and send me prompts and shite :)


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